


i hate (loving) you

by stylinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Angst, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Hate Sex, Hook-Up, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-20 20:51:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 43,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylinson/pseuds/stylinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis Tomlinson hates Harry Styles and wants absolutely nothing to do with him. Too bad fate has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

If there was one thing in the world that Louis hated, it was Harry Styles.

Every school had a boy like Harry—the girls wanted him and the boys wanted to be him. His parents were so rich, he could probably feed the country if he wanted. That fact alone caused Louis to despise him. And it would’ve been easier to like him too, if he were a nice friendly bloke. But he was the exact opposite. He went out of his way to flirt with anyone and everyone, and was always trying to get one over on the teachers. Sure, Louis admitted, he wasn’t half bad-looking. With chocolate brown curls and intense green eyes, he was one of the fittest boys at the school. But there was really no need to flaunt it like he did; changing girlfriends like clothes, a new one draping from his arm each day. 

Louis found it all quite disgusting.

“Seriously, can’t she see? He’s just going to fuck her and then throw her away like a disposable tissue,” he said to his mate Zayn with a roll of his eyes. They sat in the table slightly off to the left of the cafeteria, just like they always did. Harry and his group had just happened to walk past, and at the sight of yet another girl clinging to him, with bleach-blonde hair and a skimpy t-shirt, Louis just couldn’t stand it. He began a full-blown rant to Zayn, oblivious that this was not the first time he’d talked at such length about the curly-haired boy.

Zayn nodded, his eyes focused on some point in the distance as he took a sip of coffee. “Chill out mate,” Zayn drawled. “You sound awfully concerned.” 

Louis made a face of disbelief. “Why would you say that? I’m just saying, people like him aren’t having a positive impact on society.” He shook his head at the backside of Harry as he rounded a corner, laughing about something with his mates. He wondered briefly how people like Harry even had friends.

“Alright then, whatever you say,” Zayn shrugged. He cast a glance at his watch. “We better get to class if we don’t want to be late.” The pair got up and headed back to the main campus. Louis took the time to appreciate the beautiful scenery. It was a bright and sunny day. The grass was a lush green, and tall trees surrounded the spacious cafeteria. As they walked downhill, they neared the tall four-story building that was their university campus. 

There was a massive library on the first floor, and the dormitory was connected at the left side. Louis and Zayn parted ways.

“Remember, party tonight!” Zayn called out. “How could I forget,” Louis chuckled as he entered the school. Zayn was a great friend in many ways, but the one thing Louis loved most about him was that he loved to party. On days when the stress of homework crushed Louis, he could always trust Zayn to get him in to the best parties and have a great time. Sure he’d regret it in the morning, but they were young and it was all in good fun.

He walked into the Psychology classroom and sat down, pulling out his books. He flipped through them absentmindedly, staring out the window at the puffy white clouds. They formed such a nice contrast with the blue sky that he almost didn’t notice when someone sat down behind him. And that someone happened to be the person he hated with every fiber of his being.

“Tomlinson.”

Louis’ head whipped around at the sound of the low, husky voice, the feeling of hot breath right next to his ear. He tried to remain calm and not punch Harry Styles in the face for giving him a right shock. “So you’ve decided to show up for class, Styles,” he muttered, glaring at the younger boy. Harry returned the gaze, cocking an eyebrow. “Of course. You know me, I’m a very good boy.” He smirked, and Louis felt a wave of disgust run through him. He rolled his eyes and turned back around. Why waste time talking to the prick.

Now anyone looking on at this scene might just see it as a completely normal conversation. But Louis knew much better. From the first moment Louis first laid eyes on Harry he had immediately developed an intense hatred for him. And Harry did his best to fuel it, by kicking his chair, making inappropriate comments, and distracting Louis from the lesson.

Right, the lesson. Louis copiously wrote down the scribbled mess the professor had written on the board, trying to listen to the lecture she was giving. Instead, a deep voice was whispering into his ear. Louis groaned inwardly. Not this again. He tried to tune out the noise by his left ear and focus on the lesson, but that was impossible when he could feel the other boy’s hot breath on his skin.

“So, Tomlinson, what’re you doing tonight? Going to Nick’s party?”

Louis clenched his jaw and continued writing. What did it matter to Harry?

“I’ll take that as a yes. Can’t wait to see you there.”

Chills ran down Louis’ spine involuntarily. He shifted his chair to the side. People like Harry Styles really needed to get a life other than making people feel miserable.

The teacher droned on about tendencies in the behaviour of males and females and how each differed, and the similarities in homosexual females and straight males, versus homosexual men and straight females, yada yada. Louis was beginning to fall asleep; sure, psychology was interesting, but this professor spoke with such a monotone voice that it just went in one ear and out the other. Just as his head was about to hit the desk, the low voice by his ear spoke up again.

“So which one are you?”

“Why do you care?” Louis muttered under his breath, sincerely irritated by now.

“You’re gay, aren’t you? I can tell.”

Louis stiffened. He wasn’t, not at all. He’d dated tons of girls before if it was any proof. And besides, so what if he was? It was none of this Harry kid’s business.

“Bet you like it up the ass—”

He’d had enough. Louis wheeled around and stared Harry dead in the eye. “You shut your fucking mouth, Styles, or I’ll make you regret you ever—”

“Fine, fine,” Harry smirked, raising his hands in surrender. “I was just curious!”

Thankfully, at that moment, the professor closed her books and announced that class was over. Louis couldn’t snatch up his notebooks and bag quick enough. He dashed out the door and straight to his dorm, wondering how on earth he was going to be able to survive the semester like this.

Fortunately, he reminded himself, there was the party where he could let loose. Piles of homework and a very long essay later, he and Zayn drove over to the club and walked through the door, greeted by a wave of loud music. Louis smiled. Nick held the best parties, and Louis was grateful for a chance to unwind after the day’s stress. He headed straight for the bar, and looked around, spotting a group of fit-looking girls. He elbowed Zayn, and they made their way over.

Two hours, much dancing, and countless shots later, Louis was very drunk. He was still on the dance floor, a blonde-haired girl attached to his waist. The bass thumped loudly in his ears and vibrated through his body. He looked around with half-closed eyes—as expected, Zayn was nowhere to be seen. Probably hooking up with one of those pretty girls. He looked down at the girl, who batted her clumpy, overly made-up eyelashes in an attempt to be flirtatious. He sighed and pulled away, smiling apologetically. She made a noise of protest but merely kept dancing, finding a new guy to grind against. 

Louis leaned against the bar, a hand on his temple. He never thought he’d say it, but he was tired of dancing. The girls at this bar were, at first glance, pretty, but as the night wore on they had only proved to be sluts, skimpy dresses revealing too much as they danced on tables and random guys’ laps. His heart just wasn’t in it. A nagging voice in the back of his mind that said perhaps he wasn’t interested in girls at all, but he ignored it.

“Hey there,” said a gravelly voice right beside him.

He looked up to see a pair of startlingly clear green eyes. Harry Styles. Great, just what he needed. He took a step back, but ended up stumbling. Harry extended a hand and caught him by his arm. His touch sent a pleasant, tingling sensation through Louis.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Harry drawled. 

“What are you doing all by yourself? You should be out there having some fun,” Harry’s voice whispered in his ear, sending shudders through Louis yet again. “You just left that poor girl standing there.” Harry pointed to the girl Louis had been dancing with. 

“What’s your point?” he slurred, shoving Harry away and glaring at the boy who just never left him alone.

“Couldn’t pick up a girl, could you?” Harry smirked. “Poor little Louis can’t get himself laid?”

Anger spread through him like fire. He stumbled toward Harry, glaring him straight in the eye. “Oh yeah, look who’s talking!” he tossed back, though it came out more like an inarticulate jumble of words. “If you’re so great at picking up girls why are you here bothering me, huh?”

Harry blinked, momentarily taken aback. Louis took the chance. “Couldn’t get yourself a girl either, could you? I know what you think,” He didn’t even know what he was saying now but it felt so good to get back at Harry, he didn’t stop to think. “You think you’re so great and that everyone loves you. When really, no one in their right mind would want to fuck you.”

“Oh really now?” Harry breathed, shifting so his face was inches away from Louis’. Louis could feel the heat radiating from his skin at such close proximity and he was overwhelmed by an unfamiliar feeling, something not at all unpleasant that stirred up inside him. “You might want to take that back.” He placed a finger on Louis’ cheek, letting it trail down his jawline. Louis swallowed, but stood his ground, staring Harry down.

“Never,” he said.

And that was it. Harry attacked the older boy, crashing his lips against Louis’. Gentle hands wrapped around Louis’ waist, tugging him in closer. Louis obliged, leaning into the taller boy, tugging furiously at his curls. Harry shoved his tongue into Louis’ mouth, and their tongues fought for dominance until Harry pulled away. Louis made a sound of protest, but was silenced as Harry’s lips trailed down Louis’ neck and nibbled at the skin just below his ear. Louis moaned with pleasure. It felt so right, that he forgot how wrong it was to be kissing Harry Styles, the boy he hated with a passion.

Right now the only passion was the sparks that were almost palpable, the ferocity of the kisses pressed to lips and collarbones and the fingernails dragged along each other’s back. A blur of tangled limbs and heated passion, as Harry shoved Louis up against the wall, hands cupping his face, and threatened to swallow him whole.

Somewhere along the line Harry had muttered something about “my place or yours” and somehow they ended up clambering into some sort of vehicle, limbs still interlocked, kisses wet and sloppy, and they drove off.

The rest was a blur that Louis couldn’t quite recall when he woke up bleary-eyed in a bed that wasn’t his.


	2. Chapter 2

Louis was woken up by a bright beam of sunlight streaming in through the window. His head was pounding and he felt extremely sick. He opened his eyes and sat up groggily, looking around. Something wasn’t right; this room was three times the size of his own dorm. There was a window to his left that shouldn’t be there and his desk and bookcase were gone. And the room was much too neat and tidy; there were barely any clothes strewn on the floor.

Wait—were those _his_ clothes lying in a pile beside him? He peeked underneath the blankets and a heated blush crept up his face as he realized he was completely naked. Then the events of the night before came rushing back to him. 

He’d fucked a guy. And not just any guy—Harry Styles.

Louis let out a strangled cry and buried his head in his hands. He felt so disgusted with himself. What the _hell_ had he been thinking? He _hated_ the kid with everything he had, and yet the memories of last night played back vividly in his mind. The feeling of slender fingers tugging at his hair, fingernails raking down his back, lips ghosting down his neck and biting down hard—

No, no, this hadn’t happened. He definitely had _not_ done something so rash. It must have been the alcohol, creating some illusion, some horrible dream. He pinched himself, wishing he’d wake up. No such luck.

His only option now was to leave, fast. Hastily he got dressed and tiptoed out the bedroom door, hoping he could be spared the total humiliation of facing Harry.

He made it down the hall, and the front door was so tantalizingly close, when a husky voice called out, “Had fun last night?” and he froze in his tracks. A wave of nausea shot through him. _Don’t turn around_ , he told himself. _No matter what you do, don’t turn around._

His body, however, had a mind of its own. He whirled around to see Harry, clad in a tight-fitting t-shirt and boxers, leaning against the door frame. His hair was perfectly tousled and he wore a crooked smile. Louis’ throat went dry and his feet were glued to the ground.

“What’s the matter, babe? You seemed to like it when you screamed my name—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Louis cut him off, mustering all the anger he could. “And don’t you dare speak of this to anyone else.”

But it had the opposite effect—Harry merely laughed, and his green eyes twinkled with amusement. _God_ , what had Louis done to deserve this?

“Embarrassed, are we? Oh don’t worry, I’m great at keeping secrets,” he drawled. “But wouldn’t you like some breakfast before you leave?”

Breakfast? Louis felt like there was something he was forgetting…

Oh God. He cast a glance at the clock on the wall. Ten-thirty. “Oh God. Oh God!” He was screwed.

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Not hungry?”

“I’m late for work at the restaurant!” Louis shouted, running to the door and pulling on his Toms. “This is all your fault. I’m going to get fired!”

“Hey, relax, it’s just work,” Harry said, the hint of amusement still lingering in his voice. _Just work?_ Of course it was just work to him, the insensitive prick. It took all Louis’ self-control not to punch him square in the face. “Oh God, oh God,” he muttered to himself. “I hope the bus hasn’t left yet…” he rambled nervously. He heard Harry chuckle, and mutter something like “You’re cute,” but he was really honestly beyond caring. He’d get back at him later; for now he only prayed the boss was feeling nice. He yanked the door open and broke into a run, not even bothering to look back.

If he had, maybe he’d have noticed how intently the curly-haired boy was watching him.

…

By midday, Louis was absolutely certain that this was the worst day he’d ever experienced. Not only did he show up two full hours late to work, but he’d had to endure a humiliating lecture from his boss in a booming loud voice before he finally decided to fire Louis. He’d also missed the bus coming home and had to walk until his feet were surely bleeding. Now he was sprawled out on the couch, nursing his headache and blistered feet. He resolved to never, _ever_ get drunk again. 

The front door suddenly slammed open and a grinning Zayn sauntered in. “Vas happenin’ Loueh?” he exclaimed. His face fell when he saw Louis wrapped up in a blanket on the couch, eyes half-closed. “You alright mate?” he asked. “What happened? I assumed you had a good night since you disappeared off to who knows where…”

Louis sighed. It was inevitable that he’d have to tell Zayn, but how could he when the mere thought of what happened threatened to make him sick all over again? “I, uh, got fired,” he said matter-of-factly, trying to sound more nonchalant than he really was. Zayn didn’t fall for it. “Whoa, wait… why?”

“I was late. Two hours late in fact,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. Zayn flopped down on the couch beside him. “Lou, you’re never late. What happened?” he inquired. Louis bit his bottom lip and slid his head underneath the blankets, before finally mumbling, “umIsortofsleptwithHarryStyles.”

“Come again?” Zayn chuckled.

Louis poked his head out of the blanket. “I slept with Harry Styles okay! I woke up at fucking ten in the morning and then—”

But to his horror, Zayn burst out in a peal of laughter. “Ha—Harry Styles? Oh no Louis, like I’d ever fall for that. Next joke please!”

“Shut up Zayn! Louis cried. “This is not helping!”

Zayn’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open, as he realized Louis wasn’t joking. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Louis grumbled. “Now are you going to help me or not?”

Zayn sighed and patted Louis’ back in sympathy. “Well, uh, I’m sorry mate—this sort of thing usually happens in books,” he admitted. “I suppose there’s nothing you can do really, just bear with it till the term’s over?”

Louis sighed dejectedly. “And now I’ll have to find a new job, too. Either that, or starve to death. Any ideas on where I should start?”

Zayn nodded. “Well, I’ve been reading the school newspaper, and I came across something that might work.” He grabbed the copy lying on the table and pointed to a tutoring ad. “You should be a tutor.”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “A tutor? No, no way. I’m barely passing my courses, how am I supposed to help other people?”

“But you’re really good at English though,” Zayn replied. “And besides, don’t you want to be a teacher when you graduate? This would be great experience,” he added as an afterthought.

Louis thought about it for a second. Sure, Zayn had a point. Louis could stay on campus and earn a lot more than he was at the restaurant, all while doing something he wasn’t half bad at. “You’re right, Zayn. This wouldn’t be half bad. Maybe I’ll give it a try,” he shrugged, smiling. “And thank you.” He pulled Zayn in a one-armed hug. Zayn just grinned. “If this works out you owe me one,” he said.

That night, Louis wrote up a short advertisement and emailed it to the school newspaper with his phone number underneath. It’d be up by tomorrow, and he wondered vaguely if he would just be ignored. 

He wasn’t expecting to be woken up by a text at precisely 8 a.m., from an unknown number, asking if seven o’clock was an okay time.

“Today?” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. As eager as he was to earn money, he had piles of homework that had been momentarily forgotten in the chaos of all that happened. He texted the person back, and they agreed on Wednesday at seven.

The next few days passed uneventfully. In class, Louis was unable to concentrate, and found his mind wandering back to a certain curly-haired boy. Every time he caught himself, and every time he had to try not to throw up. Disgust was an understatement for what Louis felt. He only hoped his memory would fade away as time wore on.

This was particularly evident in Psychology. Louis would glance back periodically at the unoccupied desk behind him. He was glad, for he didn’t know if he’d be able to endure the pointed looks and constant teasing of the boy, after what had happened Friday night. 

If only he could just wipe his memory clean, just never see Harry again, and everything would be back to normal.

As Wednesday rolled around, he forced himself to focus on the fact that he was to meet his very first student at seven. He walked around campus, looking for the address the student had texted. He climbed up a few flights of stairs and found that he was in the largest part of the dorms, for the rich kids who could afford to live comfortably. This made him slightly uncomfortable, but also glad at the prospect of the money he could earn.

As he neared the room—number 403, it was—he felt an aching sense of familiarity that he couldn’t quite place. He’d been here before, he was sure of it. And now, for some reason, he was suddenly cold and shivering. He zipped up his hoodie and wrapped his arms around himself.

403—there it was. He reached up to ring the doorbell, but the door suddenly swung open. 

There stood the familiar figure of Harry Styles, wearing a white t-shirt, jeans, and that irritatingly knowing smile. Louis’ jaw dropped as the horror of the situation dawned on him. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Well, Louis, you just going to stand there or are you going to teach me English?” Harry said, smirking.


	3. Chapter 3

_Screwed_ wasn’t the right word to describe Louis’ situation. It was much, much worse than that.

Then again, he didn’t quite have a better word for it. 

Harry was still looking expectantly at him, and Louis looked down at the ground, feigning interest in Harry’s shoes. “I—uh—I can’t do this,” he said finally. “I can’t be your tutor.”

“Oh really? And why not?”

Louis clenched his jaw. “You know _exactly_ why not,” he tossed back.

Harry’s eyes widened with fake innocence. “No, I really don’t. Why is this so bad? I’m going to pay you for you to help me with my English, which I’m failing. Isn’t this a good deal?”

Louis put a hand to his forehead, trying to conceal his inner turmoil. He should never have posted that stupid ad. It was all Zayn’s fault, he decided. “I—have you forgotten what happened?” he said incredulously. 

“’Course not, who could _ever_ forget that? Best fuck of my life,” Harry said with a crooked grin, and Louis was _this_ close to punching the kid. “Look, can we just forget about this? Just be out of each others’ lives?” he said, trying to control the quaver in his voice.

“Exactly what I’m suggesting!” Harry laughed. “We pretend nothing happened, and you tutor me, just till the end of term. That’s all there is to it.” And Louis might have believed him, if his tone of voice hadn’t completely betrayed his intentions.

“No—” Louis began, but was cut off by a sound of laughter coming from inside the flat. Because really, it wasn’t like a dorm at all, more like a flat. Two figures emerged from a room, a doe-eyed, brown-haired boy and a blonde, skinny boy who was stuffing his face with chips.

“Oi Styles, who’s your friend?” the blonde piped up, mouth full of food.

Harry winked at Louis before turning to answer, “This is Louis. He’s my English tutor. Aren’t you, Louis?”

Well okay, if that was how Harry was going to play it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, right? Louis would just tutor him, get the money he needed, ignore any snide remarks Harry made. 

“Yeah,” Louis replied. “Nice to meet you…?”

“Niall,” the blonde boy said. “And that’s Liam,” he said, gesturing to the brown-haired boy, who smiled widely before sitting down on the couch.

Great. So now Louis was Harry’s tutor. 

“Could you two give us a bit of privacy?” Harry hissed. Niall and Liam obediently got off the couch and disappeared through a door. Louis didn’t miss the surprised look on Liam’s face, and Niall’s not-so-subtle wink at Harry.

Harry only shrugged. “Have a seat Louis,” he said, pulling out a chair for him. Louis would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised at the small act, but he sat down anyway, rummaging through his bags and taking out some textbooks.

“So, how about you start by telling me what you’re studying, and we can go from there?” Louis asked uncertainly. Harry nodded, pursing his lips.

“Well,” he said slowly, “there’s this part…I don’t understand…in this book that I read for English class…” He grabbed a random book from the bookshelf and handed it to Louis. “It’s uhm…page 101. Could you explain it to me?”

If Harry was trying to make up something on the spot, well, he was really bad at it. But it was Louis’ job, so he tried his best, stringing together a collection of words he’d once heard his teacher use to describe the book, and hoping it made sense. All the while he made an effort to ignore the fact that Harry was staring intently at him, and how close he was, and how he could practically feel the warmth radiating from the younger boy’s skin. 

As Louis rambled on, Harry shifted closer and closer until his arm was brushing against Louis’. Louis attempted to ignore this, but found he couldn’t, when Harry’s fingers began to trace circles on Louis’ forearm. He snapped the book shut and glared at Harry, who only grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Louis sighed and continued his pointless analysis of the book, tossing in a few big words here and there, though he doubted Harry was even listening. He’d moved away from Louis but only barely, and he’d leaned down so that his curls tickled Louis’ nose and he could smell something pleasant, like strawberries. His mind flashed briefly back to _that night_ when his fingers had been tangled in those curls and—

 _Stop it, Louis,_ he chastised himself. _You’re supposed to pretend nothing happened and move on!_

And so the rest of the lesson went something like this; Harry subtly fighting for Louis’ attention, Louis trying desperately to push all thoughts of Harry out of his head. By the time the end of the session rolled around Louis’ was completely exhausted. “Okay, that’ll be it for today,” he said. “I’ve gotta go now.”

“Already? Come on,” Harry urged, “stay a bit longer.”

Louis’ heart stuttered for a moment before he realized it wasn’t supposed to. He cleared his throat. “It’s been two hours, and that’s what we agreed on,” he said as professionally as possible. He reached for the door handle, but Harry grabbed his wrist. “Wait.”

Strangely enough, his touch sent chills running through Louis. Because you hate him, he told himself. _The very thought of him repulses you and that’s why you hate it when he touches you, that’s right._

Harry dug inside his jeans pocket, accidentally or on purpose revealing a small patch of bare skin just above his hip. He handed Louis the money, brushing his fingers in the process.

“Thanks for tutoring me, Louis,” he said cheerily. “I learned so much today.” Louis just nodded, stifling a snort. He pocketed the money and was about to head out the door when Harry called out, “Wait Lou, could you do me a favour?”

He spun around to face the boy. “What?”

“Wear those trousers again next week. They look awfully nice on your bum.”

Louis’ jaw dropped open and he slammed the door shut with much more force than was necessary. He ran back to his dorm, grumbling to himself all the while, unaware of the blush that was creeping up his neck.

Louis knew only two things by then; that Harry had made it his life goal to torment Louis, and that he was doing a fantastic job of it.


	4. Chapter 4

Louis was sprawled out on the couch, eating chips and watching reruns of some lame TV show. Zayn sat beside him, tapping away furiously at the keys of his phone, which irked Louis especially since it had been so long since they’d hung out together. Then again, he hadn’t exactly been pleasant in the last few times they’d talked, so who was he to talk? He leaned over and glanced at Zayn’s phone and was surprised when he hid the phone from Louis’ view.

“Who you texting?” Louis asked with a wink. Zayn merely shrugged and mumbled, “Someone.”

“Come on Zayn, tell me more,” Louis poked his arm, genuinely curious as to why Zayn bothered to hide this, whoever he was talking to. Zayn scowled. “It’s no big deal, really, just someone I met at the party.”

At this Louis felt a slight pang of guilt. He’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of Harry, he hadn’t even bothered to inquire what happened to Zayn that night. Some friend he was. “What’s her name?” Louis prodded. “What does she look like? Is she fit?”

At this Zayn let out a badly suppressed chuckle. “Lou,” he said slowly, “It’s not a girl.” 

If he was being honest, this kind of threw him off. Zayn was one of the straightest people he knew. It didn’t make a difference of course; he just didn’t exactly know what to say.

“Ah,” he said finally. “Didn’t know you were into blokes.”

Zayn shoved a cushion in his face. “I’m not, we’re just friends!” he said in a significantly high-pitched tone of voice. “All right, all right!” Louis laughed, muffled by the fabric. “You’re just friends, blah blah blah. Now let me breathe!”

Zayn withdrew the cushion, a slight blush creeping up on his tan cheeks. decided to let it go. If Zayn really liked this guy, whoever he was, well then, he was all for it. 

“So, how’s the tutoring going?” Zayn asked, changing the topic. Louis coughed awkwardly. “Can we not talk about this?” he said rather hesitantly. He’d told Zayn the other day that his first student turned out to be none other than Harry Styles and he really didn’t want to bring it up again. That would only cause more thoughts of disgust to flood through his head, more anger to flare up inside him.

Zayn sighed. “How bad can it be, Louis? You teach him stuff, he pays you. That’s all, isn’t it?”

Louis groaned. “I suppose so.” Honestly, even he didn’t know why he was so flustered. Harry was of course a rude and inconsiderate prick, but that was nothing he hadn’t seen before. So he could handle it now, and make it though the semester. What was more important was that it was much better paying than the job at the restaurant. The one good thing about Harry was that he had too much money to spare. 

Louis finished the bag of chips and threw it in the trash. He got up to go to the fridge, stretching his sore neck. He hadn’t been sleeping well these past few days; a certain face plagued his dreams. He decided to ignore it, hoping it’d get better soon. There were more urgent matters to attend to, such as food.

He opened the fridge and was greeted by an apple and a nearly finished carton of milk. “Zayn!” he called over his shoulder. “We’re all out of groceries!”

“I told you to go grocery shopping,” Zayn muttered, still staring at his phone.

“No you didn’t,” Louis replied. “Okay well, I guess you just did.” He pulled on a jacket and grabbed the keys. “I better hurry. Store’s closing in about an hour.”

Zayn pocketed his phone at last. “I’m coming with you. You never get the kind of coffee I like,” he grumbled.

It took about fifteen minutes to get to the Tesco’s just outside of campus. While Zayn looked for coffee, Louis wandered over to the dairy section and grabbed a carton of milk. He had just turned around when he saw a mop of curly hair not too far away and froze on the spot.

 _Shit._ Of all people, Harry was grocery shopping at the same time he was?

He darted in the other direction without looking, and immediately regretted it as he crashed into a tall figure. He looked up and saw Liam, Harry’s flatmate. Liam’s eyes crinkled in a friendly smile. “Hey Louis, fancy seeing you here. How are you?”

“H-hi, Liam. I’m uh, I’m fine thanks,” he stuttered, unsure of what else to say. If he stayed too long, Harry would come over and see Louis and start doing whatever it was he always did to annoy Louis. But if he said nothing at all that would be just plain rude, wouldn’t it? And besides, what the hell do you say to someone when you’re out shopping for groceries? “So I see you drink 2% milk, huh. Nice choice”?

Yeah, no.

Just when Louis was about to open his mouth, he heard a voice with a thick Irish accent.

“Harry, please just let me buy them! I’ll starve to death!”

“You don’t need five bags of Cheetos, Niall, stop being overdramatic.”

“ _Please,_ Haz. I’ll share with you and Liam!”

“Sure, Niall, last time we bought Kraft Dinner that says ‘serves four’ and you ate it all—”

The two boys stopped abruptly when they saw Louis. Niall’s face lit up in a wide grin as he waved animatedly, while Harry’s face remained impassive. “Louis,” he drawled, elongating the vowels. God, just hearing his voice made Louis want to be sick.

“Harry,” he replied, short and brisk. “Nice to see you.” The sarcasm was dripping from his voice. Liam and Niall were looking between the two, confused—Louis realized they were probably unaware of the way Harry acted around Louis. Harry had to be a pretty good actor, didn’t he, to have friends so amiable as Liam and Niall. Or maybe they were just those sickeningly optimistic, glass-half-full kinds of people who saw goodness in everyone.

“Well, uh,” Louis held up his jug of milk. “I’m just about done shopping. See you around campus?” He was just about to leave when Zayn came sauntering over. “Louis, make sure you get the— Liam?” he trailed off, his voice shifting a whole pitch higher. “Hey, nice seeing you here!” Louis watched in confusion and amusement as Zayn and Liam engaged in a friendly one-armed hug. They then began to talk, hitting it off like they’d been friends for ages. 

Louis looked to Niall, hoping for an answer to his silent question, only to see that Niall was focused on the snacks aisle and grabbing whatever he could fit in his arms. He then looked to Harry—and his breath caught in his throat when he saw that Harry was staring right back at him with his trademark smirk. 

For a moment, they held their gaze, communicating unspoken words. Then Louis broke the gaze, staring down at the ground, wondering what the hell just happened. “Come on Zayn, it’s getting late, let’s go,” he said hurriedly, dragging Zayn along by the collar. “Bye, Liam, bye Niall!”

They paid for everything and hurried back home, Zayn grumbling words of protest, Louis ignoring him. As bad as he felt to interrupt things with Zayn and Liam—whatever those things were—he simply couldn’t stand being in the same room as Harry. That was all there is to it. 

…

“It was Liam, wasn’t it? The guy you were texting?” Louis poked Zayn’s arm playfully, once they were back home. Zayn just shrugged, trying to conceal a blush.

“Yeah, so what,” he mumbled.

“Liam’s a really nice guy, just has a jerkwad for a friend.” Louis sighed. “And I have to tutor that jerkwad again today. Wish me luck,” he said, hopping off the couch and pulling on a jumper that lay on the floor. 

“Shouldn’t you wash that first…?” Zayn asked skeptically. Louis shrugged, brushing off some lint from the surface. “Ah, it’ll be fine.” He looked down, and realized with horror that he was wearing red trousers. “Fuck,” he muttered, dashing into his room and grabbing a pair of turquoise skinnies instead. He gathered his books, stood in front of the mirror, and took a deep breath. Nothing Harry said would affect him today—he was fully prepared for it now.

“Later, Zayn!” He bolted out the door without looking back, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible. Nothing was going to happen, he reminded himself. Only two more weeks until the end of the semester… Nothing could go wrong. 

…

“You forgot the red trousers,” Harry greeted him with a fake pout.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Louis grumbled. 

“But the turquoise fits just as nicely,” Harry went on, licking his lips.

Louis clenched his jaw and threw his books down on the table. 

Looking around, he saw that Liam and Niall were sprawled out on the couch, watching a game of football, cheering animatedly. Knowing someone else was there comforted Louis—Harry wouldn’t dare try anything now. 

So as the lesson started, Louis didn’t have such a hard time explaining yet another elaborate novel to Harry, until Liam and Niall left to go to the library.

After the door had closed, Harry immediately shifted in his chair so that his thigh was touching Louis’. Louis pulled his chair to the side, still keeping an eye on the book. He raised and lowered his voice, pretending he was reading to a class. Good practice for being a teacher. He tried to ignore Harry’s loud chewing noises and his fingers that were constantly tapping at the table, increasing pace with Louis’ own heartbeat.

“Would you stop that?” Louis hissed, grabbing onto Harry’s wrist. Harry immediately looked up, smiling. As if this was what he’d wanted all along. And Louis realized, it probably was.

“Sorry. Please, tell me more,” he replied, voice thick with sarcasm.

Louis continued, but to his dismay, he couldn’t seem to stop stuttering.

About an hour into the session, Harry spoke up, sounding much more irritated than he had a right to be. “Look, Louis, can you just get to the point? I didn’t pay you to talk about the same shit for a whole hour,” he complained, snapping his gum. 

“Look, Harry,” he replied. “Why don’t you just be quiet and listen? It’s not like I _want_ to do this, to sit here and babble on about a book I don’t even care about?” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “If you don’t want to be a tutor, why’d you post the fucking ad?” 

“Oh you’ve forgotten, have you?” Louis couldn’t shut up now. “You’re the only reason I lost my job in the first place and it was either get a job or starve. Despite what you may think, not everyone has it as easy as the likes of you,” he finished, huffing indignantly. 

Harry was now glaring at him with more than faint distaste. For the first time since they’d met, Louis saw a flicker of emotion, one he couldn’t quite decipher, in Harry’s green eyes. Was it confusion? Anger? “I never said I had it easy,” Harry said, too casually. “Hate to break it to you, but you shouldn’t just assume things about people. That won’t get you anywhere.”

Louis paused, trying to decipher what exactly Harry meant. “Don’t make this about me,” he retorted. “This is about you, Harry, and why do you always try to get on my last nerve—”

And then he was silenced by Harry’s lips crashing into his, mostly missing and landing more on his cheek. Overwhelmed by the shock of the moment and a sudden inability to breathe, he forgot to respond as Harry deepened the kiss, digging his fingers into Louis’ hair and tugging at his lower lip because _damn_ that felt so good and why the fuck was he just sitting there because he _hated_ Harry and since when did he enjoy kissing someone he hated?

He pulled back hastily and shoved Harry away, ignoring his noise of protest. “Louis—”

“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled, mortified at the way his voice came out as a high-pitched squeal. Suddenly dizzy, he nearly tripped off the chair as he stood up, snatching up his books, and ran to the door. 

“I just—” Harry started, but was cut off by the loud slamming of the door.

Harry was left standing somewhat dejectedly, alone in the room. He groaned and leaned back against the kitchen counter, running a hand through his curls. 

What was it? The reason Louis kept resisting his advances? Harry bit his lip, remembering the look in his clear blue eyes the moment their lips made contact. Those eyes… they had a rather peculiar effect on Harry, causing a pleasant sensation to spread through him. No, no. Harry shook his head, clearing his thoughts. The point was, that as Harry had leaned in to kiss him, Louis had looked startled, surprised, but in a pleasant way. Only afterwards did the shock and fear kick in.

Louis fancied him, he was one hundred percent sure of it. The way he stammered whenever Harry so much as brushed his fingers on his arm—it was too obvious. So why didn’t he just give in like all the girls he’d hooked up with?

Then again, that was what made him want Louis more. Harry smiled to himself. Louis Tomlinson was certainly a challenge. And he wasn’t going to give up until he got what he wanted.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry had forgotten to pay him.

The thought finally occurred to Louis as he got out of bed on a Monday morning. He was ashamed it’d taken him so long to remember, seeing as he was tutoring Harry for the money in the first place, which made absolutely no sense at all. 

He didn’t want to return, to go back and face another day of humiliation and invasion of personal space. He didn’t want to see that stupid grinning face and that mop of ugly tangled curls sitting atop that boy’s head like a bird’s nest.

Okay, so maybe he was exaggerating a little. But he sure as hell didn’t want to tutor Harry again if it meant two hours of mental torture.

Fortunately, Louis glanced at the calendar, and saw that it would be the last Wednesday before the end of term. This would be his last time, and then as Psychology and the tutoring session wrapped up, he could get on with his life as if nothing had happened.

Speaking of Psychology, that class had become a living hell. It wasn’t even a required course, as he was aiming to become an English teacher. He’d only taken it because he’d been placed on the wait list for the last important courses, and felt he might as well try something new. But under Harry’s watchful gaze and annoying comments, Louis couldn’t learn anything and he was quite sure he was going to fail.

This was really getting out of hand, he decided with finality. He couldn’t go on like this—couldn’t go on letting a drunken memory and the boy in it haunt him forever and throw everything in his life out of whack. He had a life outside of Harry, and he really, _really_ needed to focus on it.

 _Whatever_ , Louis told himself, shaking those thoughts out of his head. It would all be over in less than a week. And if he was going to confront Harry, he’d rather it be over quickly.

He got dressed, and texted Harry, asking him—no, more like _demanding_ him—to have the tutoring session today. He also made sure to include that it would be the very last session. Ever. And that Harry better not forget to pay him again because he was going to starve or get kicked out of the dorm and god, he really needed to stop rambling.

…

Louis rapped his fist on the door of 403, glad it would be the last time he did so.

He was greeted by none other than Harry himself, gesturing for him to come in. Louis’ eyes darted nervously around the house, as he saw that he and Harry were alone. Fear settled in his stomach, which he quickly convinced himself was irrational. Nothing would happen. Nothing at all.

Louis took a deep breath as he sat down and opened his books. “So, Harry, this is going to be our last tutoring session,” he began. “For obvious reasons,” he muttered under his breath.

“Like…?” Harry raised an eyebrow, not bothering to conceal his grin.

“Like the fact that you never stop trying to get on my nerves,” Louis said. “Or that you can’t seem to get it through your head that I’m your tutor and _nothing happened between us and nothing ever will happen between us_.” 

Harry gasped with mock horror. “Nothing happened? Oh don’t tell me you forgot already. You wound me.” He placed a hand on his heard, feigning hurt, and that was when Louis decided he’d had enough. He stood up, and Harry stepped back, surprised.

“I’ve just about had enough of you, Styles,” he said through gritted teeth. “You think you’re so great and you think I’m going to stay? Well then you’re wrong, because there is nothing, absolutely _nothing_ appealing about you.” He didn’t care that he was ranting; he didn’t want to stop. “I came here today out of politeness because I promised to tutor you till the end of term. But I don’t plan on keeping that promise anymore so just hand over the money from last time so that I can leave and you’ll be out of my life for good!”

Caught up in his outburst, he hadn’t noticed that Harry was inching closer and closer until now, when their noses were practically touching and Harry’s lips were much too close to his. He tried to swallow but found that he couldn’t seem to breathe properly. The very presence of Harry, so close to Louis, and he could feel his bones shrinking and his muscles contracting in an emotion he could never quite put his finger on. He shivered.

Louis tried taking a step back, only to slam his backside on the edge of the table. He winced in pain. Harry’s lips curved into a sly smile, his eyes burning into Louis’ skin, and _fuck_ , he was trapped. 

“You know, I don’t need this,” he hissed, though his voice held no conviction. “I came here to tutor you and _only_ to tutor you and if you can’t stop acting like some horny teenager then I’m just going to leave—”

“Oh, I’m a horny teenager now, am I?” Harry taunted, eyes flickering ever so slightly down. Louis realized he was embarrassingly and achingly hard. He opened his mouth to protest, but no words escaped. Then Harry leaned closer, sliding a finger down Louis’ side and finally landing on a patch of exposed skin under the hem of his shirt. Louis’ breath hitched in his throat, because no, no, this wasn’t about to happen and where did all the oxygen in this room go, because he was suffocating and he couldn’t breathe and suddenly a strange sensation shot through Louis, curling pleasantly in his lower abdomen.

“I know the real reason you came here, Louis,” Harry breathed, eyes darkened to a dangerous shade of green. 

“No, you don’t, stop acting like you know everything!” Louis tried to yell, but his voice came out as barely a whisper. Harry simply looked at him, a smile playing with the corners of his lips. He knew that look, he’d seen it before, and he forgot to reply when Harry went on, “No, Louis, _you_ stop acting.” He pushed his hips forward, grinding into Louis’ erection. “We both know how much you’ve needed…this.”

In the next instant, Harry jerked Louis towards him and their lips collided. Louis’ mind was overwhelmed by shock and he could do nothing but stand there as Harry’s fingers tangled in Louis’ hair and his other hand wrapped around his waist, and pressed their chests together. Harry’s actions were everything but gentle as he bit down on Louis’ lower lip, asking for entrance. Louis tilted his head back and opened his mouth, allowing Harry’s tongue to roam inside. 

The kiss was unlike any other—nothing compared with the heated intensity of Harry’s movements, the burning sensation of Harry’s skin pressed right up against his. Louis abandoned all thoughts of anger and shock and returned the kiss with fervor, allowing himself to revel in the way Harry’s fingers slid down his spine and traced little circles on the small of his back. He groaned, realizing Harry was right—this was what he had wanted—what he had _needed_ all along.

He let Harry take control, his lips ghosting down Louis’ neck, sucking hard at the tender skin just above his collarbone, responding only with sounds of pleasure because he was incapable of anything else. Lust coursed through every fiber of his being at the sensation of Harry’s hips grinding down on his. The passion he felt was almost tangible, the taste of the other boy so strong and sweet, that before he really knew what he was doing his hands had travelled to the hem of Harry’s shirt and he was tugging desperately at it. Harry understood, pulling off his own shirt and Louis’ in one swift motion. Once that was done he slammed Louis down on the wooden desk, knocking aside the abandoned textbooks in the process. Louis’ hands reached automatically for the zipper of Harry’s pants and yanking them down. Harry returned the favour, nibbling at the skin just above the cut of his trousers and finally settling on the fly of his pants, yanking the zipper down along with his boxers.

The sight of Harry, definitely more fit than he remembered, made Louis’ blood rush downwards. His mind was clouded by lust and overwhelming desire and for the first time since the party, he surrendered completely to these feelings. Harry fumbled in his drawer and took out a condom and a small bottle. He pushed two fingers inside him slowly, teasingly, causing Louis to dig his fingers into Harry’s back. “God, Louis, you’re so tight,” Harry rasped. Even now he never ceased to aggravate Louis. “Just shut up,” Louis replied, panting. “Hurry up and— _fuck_ —”

The memories of the party came rushing back as Harry pushed inside him and it was all Louis could do not to scream. That first night had been a blur but this, this was real, and this felt so _good_. Harry increased his speed, thrusting harder and faster, and Louis raked his fingernails down Harry’s back. “Fuck, Harry,” he hissed, barely audible. 

“What was that?” Harry breathed, nibbling on Louis’ earlobe. “Speak up, can’t hear you.”

So arrogant. But Louis couldn’t bring himself to care. He knew nothing but want and need as he lost himself in a litany of “fuckHarryfuck” and as the younger boy hit that sweet spot inside him his back and he let out a cry.

“That’s more like it,” Harry said in reply, hot breath tickling his cheeks. Louis felt himself growing tenser and knew he was getting close. Harry was, too—Louis could feel Harry’s grip tightening and then the sensation of Harry coming inside of him, letting out a loud moan, was enough to make him reach his climax. Harry pulled out just in time as he came all over the desk and let himself go limp. 

He lay there for a while, catching his breath, and then it finally sunk in, what they’d just done. He’d fucked Harry Styles, again. And this time there was no alcohol to blame.

“Well.” Harry’s voice was rough and scratchy, his pupils dilated with ecstasy. “Don’t you tell me that wasn’t what you needed.” 

Louis just lay there, too exhausted to say more. It was true, after all—it had been just what he needed. 

He got up slowly, ignoring the aching feelings in his muscles, and pulling his clothes back on, all the while avoiding Harry’s steady gaze. He didn’t know why—maybe he was scared of what he’d see there. Was he scared to see the lust, passion, or the anger, the hate? Or maybe he was most scared that when he looked in Harry’s eyes he would see nothing at all. A sea of emptiness, devoid of the emotion that should’ve been there. 

Maybe it was to fill the awkward silence or something, but Harry spoke again. “You know, you were a pretty good fuck,” Harry admitted, and Louis could hear the grin in his voice without having to look. And somehow, his fast-beating heart plummeted down to his feet. 

Of course. A pretty good fuck was all he was to Harry Styles, who had a different hookup every night. And what was even worse was that he had allowed himself to become this, to succumb to Harry when it was everything he’d been fighting against all along.

The very thoughts caused nausea to churn in his stomach. “I have to go,” he choked out, pulling on his shoes and stumbling out the door, running down the hallway he was a complete and total idiot he’d been through this before he was so much better than this and Harry was surely laughing by now.

He barely made it down the stairs and outside into the fresh air before his knees gave in and he collapsed on the ground, clutching desperately at the brick wall to keep him standing upright.

…

“We’re home!” Liam and Niall called out as the door slammed shut. Harry ran a hand through his hair and licked his lips nervously. “Hey,” he greeted nonchalantly.

“Is Louis alright?” Niall asked. Liam raised his eyebrows, in a way Harry didn’t like at all.

“Oh uh, he’s fine, just a little sick. How was the library?” A stupid question, really, but he needed to distract them from pestering him for more. Liam had been ecstatic when he found out Harry hired a tutor. “You’re finally catching up on your English, Haz!” he’d exclaimed. “It’s about time, I was worried you’d fail.”

It was nice that Liam cared, seeing as no one had really cared about him for a long time, but Harry didn’t need him to care. He knew that Liam would disapprove of him going after Louis. Liam was the kind of guy who preferred having a long-term boyfriend over a casual hook-up, while Harry was precisely the opposite. But despite their differences they’d formed quite a nice, solid friendship, and Niall, carefree and energetic, rounded off the trio perfectly.

Harry wasn’t really listening as Liam told him about the library, and so he was startled when Liam brought up the subject of Louis. “He’s not just your tutor, is he?” 

It was more of a statement than a question, really. Harry just shrugged. “Well, uh… Do I have to answer that?” He grinned sheepishly, but Liam didn’t return the smile.

“Harry,” Liam said, his eyes dead serious. “Louis’s a nice guy. And…well, I don’t really know how to say this, but…is he on the same page you are? I mean, I just don’t want him to get hurt. Or you, for that matter.” Liam’s brow was crinkled with worry, and it was all so ridiculous that Harry laughed.

“Me, get hurt? That’s impossible,” Harry chuckled bitterly. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Liam. I’ve got everything under control, trust me.” 

It was true, after all; everything was going exactly as planned. Louis had finally given in and Harry had finally gotten what he wanted. But when Harry took another look at Liam, and saw the concern in his eyes, he softened a little. 

“Hey, don’t worry about me.” Harry said, flashing a confident smile. “Everything’s fine, really. I know what I’m doing.”

Liam relaxed then, and nodded. “If you say so,” he shrugged. “Come on Niall, let’s go get some dinner.”

“Alright. Bye Harry,” Niall said, still looking confused, but he obediently walked out the door behind Liam. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He knew Liam meant well, but he didn’t need Liam’s concern. Liam knew too much already, knew things no one else knew about Harry. And the last thing Harry wanted was for Liam to dig up all his secrets and lay them out there in the open.

No, Harry decided, he was much better off this way.


	6. Chapter 6

Louis was a bit of a control freak. 

He planned each day, subconsciously. Sure, he did like excitement and fun—but that didn’t mean he didn’t like having a bit of control over his life. He liked it when things stayed the same, a daily routine that he could count on. And because money was tight and uni was tiring, keeping up this routine was a huge part of keeping him sane.

Except, now it was all being flushed down the drain, because of one Harry Styles. And he absolutely hated that.

He flipped a page in his Psychology textbook and sighed. He really needed to concentrate on the exam if he wanted to graduate soon; after all, he was only a few credits shy of his English degree. Why did his mind refuse to make room for the important things like exams, instead choosing to dwell on the unimportant things like arrogant curly haired boys?

“Looooouuiiis, dinner’s ready.”

Speak of the devil. Louis groaned. It had been two weeks since The Incident with Harry, and he thought maybe that would have been enough time to get used to the fact that he was now living with the one and only Harry Styles. Well, along with Zayn, Liam, and Niall. 

He winced as he recalled how it’d happened—he’d come home the day after The Incident, to find a unusually somber-looking Zayn seated at the kitchen table glaring up at him, phone in hand.

Before he could ask what was wrong, Zayn raised an eyebrow at him. “Whose turn was it to pay rent this month?”

Louis blinked, his stomach lurching as he realized—he’d forgotten. “Shit, Zayn, I’m sorry.”

Zayn sighed. “Save that for later,” Zayn muttered. “Just, just pack your stuff. School says we have to leave by six.”

Louis’ jaw dropped. “Wait…we’re getting kicked out? We don’t even get a second chance or anything?” 

Zayn shrugged and nodded. “There’s no more empty dorms.” Louis had to admit, he was taking this fairly well. 

“Oh, God.” The room was eerily silent as Louis felt the guilt wash over him. “I’m so sorry.” It was all Harry’s fault, Louis screamed on the inside, for eating away at his thoughts until there was no room for anything else. Not even the important shit like rent. And now he would be homeless, living on the streets in rags begging for money. No, this simply would not do. He was still trying to contain his mental freakout when Zayn piped up, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve already found us somewhere to live, at least for now.”

“Oh my God Zayn!” Louis couldn’t help it; he threw his arms around his friend and squeezed him in a tight hug. “Thank you _so much._ I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Zayn wriggled out of Louis’ grasp, looking smug. “And how would you do that?”

“I’ll do the dishes every day, do my laundry, stop leaving shit lying on the floor—”

“About time. The gum wasn’t a pleasant addition to my Supras.”

“I’ll make dinner, too—”

“No thanks, I value my life.” 

Louis thought about it for a while. “True.”

Zayn smirked. “Alright, now hurry up, I told Liam we’d be there by eight.”

_Liam…?_

It took a while for Louis’ brain to process the newfound information, but when he did he promptly let go of Zayn. “Liam?” he half-shouted, half-shrieked. “Liam, as in Harry’s flatmate? As in, we’re moving in to _their flat?_ Zayn, couldn’t you have consulted me first?”

“Of course not!” Zayn exclaimed. “Knowing you, you’d rather sit on your ass in the streets than live with Harry,” Zayn reasoned. Which was entirely true and therefore Louis should be ecstatic that Zayn had made the stupid decision for him so that he was not homeless. But he wasn’t, because the very prospect of living with the one person he despised and reliving every horrid memory sent a shiver down his spine.

And so he obediently packed his things, kissed his dorm and his privacy goodbye, and ended up here. In Liam, Niall, and Harry’s flat.

Now, he’d resorted to locking himself in his room, becoming some sort of recluse, and turning up his headphones so that he could forget Harry Styles was in the same building.

“You coming or not?” Harry yelled, forcing him to snap back to the present.

“Alright, alright!” Louis shouted back, snapping his textbook shut, and with a deep breath, exited the comfort of his new room.

He remained in his own bubble throughout dinner, picking at his food, ignoring the way his muscles tensed whenever Harry spoke. Harry, on the contrary, seemed perfectly fine, carrying on an unnecessarily sexual conversation with Niall about some girl he’d met a few nights ago. Probably on purpose, too, judging by Harry’s pointed glances towards Louis. His plan to make Louis jealous or whatever was working and this angered Louis to no end.

He excused himself politely and headed back to his room. What had he been thinking? He couldn’t do this. So what if he’d studied drama for years—when it came down to this he was completely unable to act like everything was fine.

He turned a corner, nearing the comfort of his room, and then a voice stopped him. “Hey.”

He knew it was Harry, but he still turned around. “What?”

Harry caught up to him and looked him straight in the eye. Their few inches of height difference made Louis feel belittled. “Why are you acting like this?”

Louis thought of saying, _Like what?_ but he wasn’t in the mood to play dumb. So he just said, “None of your business,” and tried to step away, but Harry stopped him, propping an arm up against the wall so he had nowhere to go. 

“It’s me, isn’t it.” A statement, not a question. Louis said nothing.

“You’ve been avoiding me because you’re embarrassed.”

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” Louis lied through his teeth.

Harry ignored him. “Embarrassed that you let me fuck you.”

Louis stiffened. “Shut up.”

“Embarrassed that you enjoyed it.”

“Didn’t.”

Harry lowered his voice, whispering in Louis’ ear. “Embarrassed that you still want more.”

“I said shut up.”

“Getting all defensive, are we?”

“No, you’re just being annoying.”

“Annoying because I’m right.”

It was no use. Louis couldn’t come up with anything to say fast enough and whatever he said Harry would just see right through it.

“Five,” Harry said suddenly. “That’s a record.”

“What?”

“You’ve said five words to me. That’s the most you’ve said in two weeks,” Harry grinned. “Which means this is working.”

Louis didn’t even know what to say. He just ducked under Harry’s arm and entered his room, where he spent the rest of the night wishing Harry would fuck off. If avoiding him didn’t work, well then fine. He’d go right back to the way he was before The Incident and show Harry that whatever he was doing to try to get Louis’ attention, it wasn’t working. At all.

…

In the midst of all this, Louis had posted another tutoring ad. He found he might have been a good tutor if he’d had a better student. The university campus was full of struggling students, and plus, the pay wasn’t half bad.

So when he received another phone call, this time from a girl with a nice voice, he figured he’d give it another try.

Eleanor, her name was. She had wavy brown hair and a nice smile. She was a quick learner and appreciated whatever Louis had to say, never getting bored, or at least, not showing it. She even seemed to have developed a liking for Louis, subtly batting her eyelashes or making a funny comment once in a while. See, Harry isn’t the only one with girls hitting on him, he thought.

He walked back from the library, feeling rather content with himself. But of course Harry had to ruin everything. Louis walked through the door just as Liam and Zayn left. “Have fun on your date,” he called over his shoulder. 

“It’s not a date!” Zayn called back.

“Sort of is,” Liam said.

Louis chuckled to himself and sat down on the couch. Harry was there, but that wasn’t going to stop him from watching the football game he couldn’t miss. However, the screen was playing what appeared to be Breaking Dawn. Louis gagged and reached for the remote, but his hands found only thin air. He looked over to see that Harry held the remote high above his head, wearing a mischievous grin.

“Give me the remote,” Louis said.

“What’s the magic word?” Harry replied.

“This isn’t kindergarten,” Louis grumbled. “Give me the remote, please.”

“Aha!” Harry pointed a finger at him. “You just said this isn’t kindergarten and yet you listened to me.”

“So can I have the remote now?” Honestly, Louis was exhausted from having used up all his creative juices on tutoring and he didn’t want to deal with this.

“Hm,” Harry pretended to contemplate his question, and then said, “Nah.” He then proceeded to sit on the remote control so that it was out of sight. Louis couldn’t help but notice the way his jeans stretched in the process, revealing a bare patch of skin above the waist. He bit his lip subconsciously.

“Tut tut,” Harry chided. “I know I’m sexy, but it’s rude to stare.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Louis huffed. “God. And of all the things you could watch, _Breaking Dawn?”_

“Hey, you gotta admit, Taylor Lautner has nice abs.” Harry cocked an eyebrow at an image of a shirtless Jacob. 

Louis crossed his arms over his chest and grunted in response.

“Aw,” Harry cooed, “don’t be offended. You know I love you more.” He leaned in and brushed his fingers against Louis’ arm. Louis smacked his hand away. “You know what,” he said, getting up. “I’m going to my room.” 

A sudden hand grabbed his wrist. He tried to wrench it free, but Harry wouldn’t let go. “You know,” he said, his voice suddenly sounding grave, “running away isn’t going to solve anything.”

Louis gulped. “What?”

“You always,” Harry paused, looking Louis in the eye. Seeing right through him. Louis looked away, down at the carpet. “You always turn to leave. You think that’ll get rid of me, or something. Then you won’t have to face the fact that you want me just as much as I want you.”

“No,” Louis said. “No, I don’t.” The carpet really was very interesting.

“Prove it,” Harry challenged. Before Louis could ask just what he meant, he had leaned in and pressed his lips against Louis’, enveloping them in a heated, passionate kiss. Louis responded just as eagerly, cursing inwardly as he felt Harry smirk. _Fuck._

Harry pushed Louis arms away, pinning him onto the couch. Louis tugged at Harry’s curls so hard he was sure they hurt. Harry’s hands pushed up Louis’ shirt, scratching lines at the skin there. Each tried to inflict as much anger and as much damage upon the other. And yet their lips moved in synchronization, tongues sliding wet and sloppily together. Harry bucked his hips and thrust hard, creating friction between them and Louis barely stifled a moan. “F-fuck you,” he growled. “That’s what I’m doing,” Harry grunted in response. Louis dug his fingers into the flesh of Harry’s back. “No you’re not,” he tried to say, but was cut off as Harry slid his hand down and palmed his cock through his pants.

“What was that?” Harry teased. Louis couldn’t even think coherent thoughts, because _fuck_ , he needed Harry and he needed it now.

“Better,” Harry said and Louis realized he’d spoken out loud. Well, fuck. Harry swiftly pulled down the zipper, then kicking off his own pants. Louis yanked off Harry’s shirt so fast he might have ripped it, not that he cared. Soon their chests were bare and they pressed into each other, skin burning with heat. The previous arguments had been long forgotten, nothing known to either of them except the lust and burning desire, the pain indistinguishable from pleasure, as they once again got lost in one another. 

When it was over they lay together, Harry still on top of Louis, catching their breath. 

“You’ve had enough of me,” Harry breathed, breaking the silence. “You still sure about that?”

Louis closed his eyes, too tired to feel angry. Too tired of denying that he didn’t want this. He thought back to the previous times, of how injured he’d felt, seeing this as a huge blow to his ego. This time around, however, he was too exhausted to feel anything but a strange contentment. They ended up like this every time, didn’t they? If Harry could do casual sex, then so could Louis. If Harry could pretend everything was normal afterwards, well then so could Louis. This was it, he supposed. He was finally giving in. 

“Fuck you,” he said finally because he sure as hell hated it when Harry was right. Which was all the time.

“Promises, promises,” Harry replied with a wink.


	7. Chapter 7

“So.”

Louis looked up from his textbook, frowning at Zayn. “What?”

Zayn leaned back against the wall of Louis’ room. “I should be asking you. What the hell’s going on with you and Harry?”

“Wh-what?” Louis looked down at his textbook again, pretending not to be flustered. “What do you mean?”

Zayn raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You can stop acting now, Louis. Only the two of us here. So, you fancy him or what?”

“Of course not,” Louis protested. Fucking Zayn and his all-knowing smirk. “We’re—” What exactly were they, anyway?

Okay, Louis had to admit they had a pretty weird relationship. He still hated Harry, for sure. He still bristled at every cocky remark he made and every day being around Harry was torture, but for an entirely different reason.

In front of everyone else, Louis and Harry remained cold towards one another. They stayed in different rooms, and when all the boys hung out together, Louis and Harry would sit on opposite sides of the couch. But as soon as everyone else was out of the house Harry would start picking at every little thing Louis did, like leaving a hair in the sink or taking up too much room on the couch. Louis never hesitated to fight back. So one minute they’d be bickering about whose turn it was to wash the dishes, and the next minute Harry would be on top of Louis on the couch kissing the hell out of him. Louis didn’t even pretend to understand what was going on. He only knew that when he wanted Harry to shut the fuck up, kissing him usually worked. Which usually led to other things. They did these other things until they had practically memorized each other’s kinks. And when a knock sounded on the door—after that, they promptly resumed ignoring each other. 

So he didn’t really know, what was going on. They’d never really discussed it. Their conversations consisted mostly of swear words and sexual noises.

“I don’t know,” Louis shrugged. It was the truth. Zayn did not appear satisfied with this response, but there was really nothing more to say. “How’s it going with Liam?” Louis asked. He’d gotten to know Liam and Niall quite well, as a result of living in such close quarters, but of course he didn’t know much about Liam and Zayn as they preferred to be in privacy.

“Great,” Zayn smiled, looking dreamily out the window. “He’s…really great.” Zayn was never one to talk about every single detail in his life, but Louis could tell from the look in his eyes that he was really happy, and that was enough for Louis. “Hey, I thought your exams were over?” Zayn inquired, leaning over the table to look at Louis’ textbook.

“I just have one more Psychology exam later today,” Louis said. “It’s later today.”

“Great. After that we should go to the bar and have a celebratory drink. It’s been a while since we’ve had any fun.” Zayn suggested.

Louis chuckled. “Maybe not.”

Zayn’s eyes boggled so wide Louis couldn’t help but laugh. “Loueh?” He made a big deal of putting a hand to Louis’ forehead. “Are you sick?”

“Yes, I’m fine, it’s just, you know what happened the last time we went out.” He shuddered. “Don’t want to do something stupid like that ever again.”

“Ouch,” Harry’s voice called out from a distance, “I’m so offended.”

Louis jumped. What the fuck, had he been listening the whole time?

“So, uh, see you later!” Zayn took this opportunity to slither out the door. 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s rude to eavesdrop?” Louis huffed, knowing Harry was outside. 

Harry walked in and leaned against the door frame. “It’s your own fault for talking so loudly. What am I supposed to do, cover my ears?”

Louis sighed and resumed studying. He hadn’t completely caught up in Psychology after having paid more attention to Harry than his coursework, and was desperately afraid he would fail. As if on cue—Louis swore Harry could read minds—Harry leaned over and snapped his textbook shut. He then sat down on Louis’ bed like he owned the place, which bothered Louis until he realized Harry pretty much did own the place.

Louis groaned. “Would you leave me alone for once, I’m studying.”

“I’m studying,” Harry mocked in a high-pitched voice. “You must be fun at parties. Oh wait, actually, you are.”

Louis’ hand curled into a fist. He hated Harry. He really did. He hated him so much that he got off his chair, grabbed Harry’s wrists and pinned him down on the bed. “Shut up or I’ll make you,” he growled.

Harry’s eyes were wide. “That’s right, Louis,” he whispered almost breathlessly. “Make me.” 

Louis’ lips wrapped around his in a passionate kiss, trailing kisses along his jawline and biting down hard on his neck, drawing a moan from the younger boy. Louis smirked. That would definitely leave a mark. He traced a line from Harry’s shoulders down his chest and hips, and settled on the button of his jeans. But as soon as Louis’ finger so much as brushed against it, Harry jolted up, flipping over and shoving Louis down so that he was on top before Louis could open his mouth to protest. “Oh no you don’t,” Harry muttered, and the anger rushed through Louis again.

This was probably the only bad thing about having sex with Harry. Louis hated the way Harry controlled him. Harry, however, flat-out refused to bottom. This was usually only a problem until Harry was inside of Louis and he became pretty much incapable of thought. But not this time, because Louis was determined to—fuck. Fuck. Harry had pushed his pants down. His fingers had wrapped around Louis’ cock and began stroking, and Louis didn’t even know his own name anymore. “You—” He could barely even speak. “Would you… just let me—fuck.”

“I told you, I don’t bottom,” Harry growled, his voice low and rough, planting kisses along Louis’ neck, and by this point Louis didn’t give a shit anymore, he was practically writhing and begging for Harry to fuck him already—

The sound of a key turning in the lock startled both of them. Louis jumped up to get dressed, but Harry pushed him back down. Instead he got up, muttering under his breath, and locked the door of Louis’ bedroom.

“They’ll hear us—” Louis started, but Harry’s hand closed over his mouth. “Fuck if I care,” Harry muttered. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t sit down and nothing’s going to stop me.” Fuck, Louis was so turned on right now. Harry unzipped his own jeans and had just put on the condom when—

“Liiiiaaaaamm!” Zayn’s voice echoed throughout the rooms of the house. Kissing noises could be heard. Harry swore under his breath. “You bought dinner?” Zayn exclaimed. “That’s so sweet of you. Harry, Louis, it’s dinner time. Come out already!” At that he burst out in laughter. “No pun intended!”

“Be there in a minute,” Louis shouted back, “I’m studying—aahhh!” Harry was inside him now, thrusting with increasing speed.

“Studying my ass.” Zayn was chortling by now. Louis made a mental note to murder Zayn, which he promptly forgot as Harry found his prostate and it was all he could do not to scream.

…

Harry hadn’t been lying. “You sure you don’t want to sit?” Liam asked in that friendly manner of his. Louis was starving, but he couldn’t fucking sit down. He shot Harry a death glare. “I’m not hungry, thanks,” he mumbled, as his stomach protested loudly. Everyone looked at him strangely, but he just retreated to his room and ate a bag of chips leaning against the wall. Fucking Harry Styles and his need to constantly embarrass the living hell out of Louis.

He busied himself with finding a nice outfit to go clubbing in. He tossed aside his red and turquoise trousers and settled on blue. Then he threw on a Leeds shirt and a hoodie, and was lost in his collection of shoes when he heard Zayn shouting, “Hurry up Louis, we’re leaving!”

It took no time to get to the club—it was located very close to campus and a famous place for uni students to go. That being said, there were also a few ugly old guys hanging around. Louis did his best to avoid them as he entered the club and looked around. The place was crowded, as always, with slutty-looking girls. He spotted Harry throwing his arm around one, and felt a weird twinge in his stomach. Whatever. One of the bartenders was a pretty girl, so Louis made his way over to talk to her.

When he got there, however, he realized she was deep in conversation with a handsome-looking guy, so he just asked for a drink. After several drinks, he was aware of someone watching him. To his left was a balding man with a bottle of beer in hand, who looked absolutely atrocious in a stained grey shirt. And that jacket, ugh—not with his complexion. Louis inched away. He didn’t take the hint.

“How’s it goin’,” he said, winking. Oh, God. 

“Bye,” Louis replied, trying to walk, around him, but he didn’t relent. 

“You’re looking good,” the man continued, leaning closer. His breath smelled horrible. 

“Um, thanks,” Louis muttered, stumbling slowly backwards.

“Want to dance?” He winked again. _Ugh._

“No,” Louis said more forcefully, turning away and trying to slip through the crowd. That proved to be unsuccessful, unless he wanted to be trampled by a crowd of people who were either groping each other or just really bad at dancing. His vision was a bit blurred; he couldn’t really tell.

“Come on, man.” Clearly wasted, the man wobbled towards him and grabbed his arm. Louis tried to wriggle away, but he had a strong hold. “Just one dance.”

“Uh, no. Leave me alone,” he said. Great. This night was turning out real great. He thought of just humouring the guy for a minute, when someone stepped in, smacking the man’s arm away. 

“He said leave him alone.” Louis wasn’t sure, what with all the deafeningly loud music, but he thought it was Harry’s voice he heard. He looked up, and sure enough, there stood Harry in a well-fitted blazer—Louis bit his lip absentmindedly—glaring daggers at the bald guy. 

“What are you doing here?” Louis hissed. Harry pointedly ignored him. “Back off,” he told the guy.

“Oh, yeah, well what if I don’t? What are you going to do about it?” the man spat. Harry’s hands curled into fists and he clenched his jaw. 

“Huh? Scared, are you?” The man laughed. Louis wasn’t liking this at all. “Harry, let’s go,” Louis murmured, tugging on his sleeve. He didn’t budge.

“Who do you think you are?” Harry said suddenly. “Acting like you own the damn place. You think he’s going to be an easy target just ‘cause he’s drunk?”

“I’m not drunk!” Louis protested. The lights were really bright and his vision was swimming, but he wasn’t drunk, nope.

“Yeah, actually, I do,” the man retorted. Harry’s eyes widened. “You gonna do something about it? You wanna fight me? Huh?”

Harry’s eyes were dangerously dark. Shit. “No,” Louis said. “Let’s _go,_ Harry.”

Then in the next split second, many things happened, fast. Harry punched the man in square in the face. He stumbled back, jaw dropped open in shock. Then he lunged at Harry— _shit,_ Louis thought, and pulled on Harry’s arm, but it was too late. The punch landed on his jaw, and Harry was thrown backwards, toppling over onto the ground. An ugly purple bruise was already forming on his face. _Holy shit_. Louis felt sick to his stomach.

He pulled on Harry’s arm, helping him up. “Come _on,_ let’s get out of here,” he yelled. A murmuring crowd had gathered around them. The guy grinned smugly, aiming another kick at Harry’s shin, but Louis pulled Harry out of the way just in time. “Let me go!” Harry shouted, struggling to be freed from Louis’ grasp. Louis ignored him, dragging him away. He heard security arriving and yelling something, but he didn’t care. His main priority was to get out of here and fast. And Harry, leaning on his shoulder and swearing at him, was making it difficult. 

“Let _go,”_ he slurred. “Gotta teach him a lesson, stupid son of a—” 

Louis quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. “Would you _quit_ it? We have to get you to the hospital.” He was panicking, okay, Harry’s lip was bleeding and he didn’t know what to do. He looked through his pockets frantically; where the hell was his phone?

“Mmf!” Harry’s voice was muffled against his hand. “Mm don’t need an ambulance, just a scratch.”

“Okay, okay, fine,” Louis said. “But we need to get you home, okay?” He started speedwalking, only to find that Harry was limping badly. “Shit. Can you make it? Should I call a taxi?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m fine, just go.”

As they made their way down the darkening street, Harry’s arm hanging loosely from Louis’ neck, a strange emotion bubbled up inside of Louis. He didn’t know what exactly it was. Guilt, maybe. Anger. “What the hell did you do that for?” he grumbled. “I can take care of myself just fine.”

Harry’s hand tightened on Louis’ shoulder. “He was trying to hit on you,” he said. “No one’s allowed to do that but me.”  
Still arrogant as ever. Louis felt the anger well up inside him. “It’s not like you own me or anything! And what about that girl you were flirting with earlier, huh? That an exception to your rule?” Fucking hypocrite. But Louis kept walking.

“Oh my God, you’re going to get all jealous because of that?” Harry said in disbelief. “So what if I am?” Louis tossed back. “At least I—”

“He was piss drunk, Louis. Do you even stop to think what he could’ve done?”

The concern in Harry’s voice surprised Louis, to say the least. Up until now, he’d thought Harry was just doing this for his ego or something. But to realize he actually cared for Louis, well, it made things different entirely. 

“He was just flirting,” Louis mumbled. “Okay, so he was being an asshole. But you didn’t have to—you didn’t have to _punch_ him for it. That’s just asking to get beat up.”

“Oh, what was I supposed to do, watch?” Harry yelled angrily, and Louis winced. “Honestly, why are you so mad? I did you a favour, and this is how you thank me—fuck,” Harry trailed off, gingerly pressing a hand to his jaw. 

“Because you’re hurt, goddamn it, and it’s my fault!” Louis shouted. Harry looked up, shocked at the outburst. “You know what,” Louis shook his head. “Just forget it. Let’s get you back home.”

The remainder of the walk home was silent, interrupted only by occasional panting breaths. When they finally got back, Louis opened the door and led Harry over to the couch. He sat down and stared up at Louis while he rummaged around in the cupboards for a first aid kit or something. Louis returned with some ointment and a band-aid, then knelt down in front of Harry.

“Tilt you chin up a bit,” Louis said to Harry, who complied. Louis gently rubbed a bit of the ointment on the bruise, wincing inwardly. All the while he felt Harry’s quiet but steady gaze on him. He looked into Harry’s eyes, wide and emerald green and mesmerizing. And for the first time, Louis found himself thinking how he wouldn’t mind staring at them all day.

Feeling a blush creeping up on his cheeks, he fumbled clumsily with the band-aid, earning a chuckle from Harry. It sounded so unusually nice that he didn’t even mind. Gently he placed the band-aid on Harry’s cheek, his fingers lingering on the skin there for just a bit longer. Harry hummed contentedly.

“I should do this more often,” Harry said, looking up at Louis with a sly smile. 

“What?”

“Get beat up by ugly old men,” Harry answered. “It’s totally worth it, if I get to see you on your knees for me.”

Louis’ jaw dropped open and he got up immediately, crossing his arms. He must’ve looked comically shocked, because Harry was giggling like a teenage girl. Seeing nothing he could do to salvage the situation, he promptly left the living room and just lay in bed, thinking. Thinking of Harry. Of his sarcastic remarks, his green eyes, his contagious laughter. Thinking how he wouldn’t at all mind to get on his knees for Harry.

A few minutes later, he rolled out of bed and peered into the living room shyly. Harry was still there, curled up on the couch in front of the muted TV. 

He cleared his throat a few times, just to get his attention. “Uh. Goodnight,” he mumbled. When there was no response, he tiptoed closer to the couch and saw that his eyes were closed and he was snoring lightly. Louis shrugged out of his hoodie and draped it over Harry’s sleeping figure, smiling to himself. Either Harry just looked really, really adorable, or Louis was just really, really drunk. 

Probably the latter.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry lay face down in his bed, his face stuffed against the pillow, ignoring the way it made his bruised cheek hurt. It was 2 am, the house was quiet, and he couldn’t fucking sleep because all he could think about was Louis.

Louis, Louis, Louis. The name bounced back and forth in his head, rolled around on the tip of his tongue. Louis. When he’d first seen Louis, he’d known immediately that he would be a challenge. But he’d had a game plan from the very start just like any other time—fuck him and leave. Those were the rules he played by. Which would’ve been easy, right? 

Wrong. Because Louis just had to go and move in with him, and now, whenever he saw the older boy he simply couldn’t keep his hands off him. And, well, okay, he could explain that, because Louis was really too fucking attractive for his own good. But then he had to go get drunk at a stupid club all dressed up nicely with his stupid hair and get hit on by some ugly old man, and then guess who had to save his sorry ass? Harry.

He groaned, burying himself further beneath the covers. Why did he even care, anyway? It was Louis’ own fault for looking so damn pretty. Sure, it was the right thing to do, but he could’ve just left without a word. He _should’ve_ just left without a word, because now Louis would probably end up having some sort of misconception that Harry actually cared about him. Which he totally didn’t.

But he couldn’t, for some reason. He couldn’t just walk away from it, knowing what the guy could’ve done to hurt Louis. Just the thought of someone else’s hands on Louis was enough to make his blood boil. 

Harry took a deep breath. Okay, this was really getting out of hand. He had to calm down, see this from a different perspective.

It had been just like helping out a friend, Harry decided. Perfectly normal and didn’t mean a thing. 

What’s done’s been done, and there wasn’t anything he could do to change it. The best he could do was to forget it had happened, and let things with him and Louis go right back to the way they were before— just a good fuck once in a while, no strings attached.

…

It turns out Louis wasn’t just really, really drunk.

Louis hadn’t expected he’d ever feel anything other than hate towards Harry. Maybe it was the little fiasco at the bar which proved that Harry may be an asshole, but he wasn’t heartless. But over the next few days, his perception of Harry started to change. 

Louis started noticing things about Harry that he hadn’t noticed before. Like the way he carried himself with such ease. The sound of his voice in the morning when he was cranky and Liam had to drag him out of bed. How great of a cook he was—the pasta he’d made at dinner tasted heavenly (okay, how had Louis never known this before, having lived with him for nearly a month now?). The way his eyes lit up when Zayn told him this, and the corner of his mouth curled up into a small smile. And when they all sat down to watch a game of football after dinner, he caught himself staring, entranced, at Harry’s perfect jawline, wanting to trace it with his fingers or maybe his lips. 

Wait, what, no, he definitely did not just think that. He hated Harry, remember? And if the way Harry was acting again was any indication, Harry hated him too.

See, if Louis expected Harry to change, too, then he was wrong. For all Harry was concerned, it was as if it had never happened. The bruise on his face gradually healed and the memory of the incident faded away with it. And Harry was right back being the annoying prick he’d always been, making annoying comments about everything Louis did and bickering with Louis about the most trivial things. To be honest, Louis didn’t know quite how he felt about this; just when Harry was starting to seem like less of a jerk than Louis originally thought he was, he went out of his way to prove that he was _totally_ the jerk Louis thought he was.

But moreover, he found that his curiosity was piqued. He found himself wondering more and more often about the Harry he’d seen that other night, and how differently he’d acted from the usual Harry, the one he knew. Or was pretty sure he knew, at least. And over the next few days, Louis came to a strange realization; that there might just be more to Harry than it seemed.

Louis sighed, turning over in his bed. He really ought to stop thinking about Harry. 

It was the first day of winter break, after he’d barely passed his last exam. He’d been trying to catch up on the sleep he’d missed due to obvious curly-haired reasons. Around this time last year he’d have taken the chance to hit every party he could with Zayn and get as wasted as humanly possible. But he’d stopped having time to himself after he and Harry started doing, uh, things he probably should be comfortable admitting by now. Louis missed his old life, and he missed hanging out with his best friend. 

Speaking of which, he really needed to catch up with Zayn. For two people who lived together, they’d been spending much less time together than they probably should’ve, what with Zayn and Liam always going out together. Louis could guess, from the way Liam’s arm was always draped over Zayn’s shoulder, and the chaste kisses they snuck each other when they thought the others weren’t looking, that they were a thing now. Louis was happy for Zayn, but also slightly annoyed that Zayn felt the need to keep the secret from him. Whatever, he thought, it was about time the two of them hung out together. 

So Louis knocked on Zayn’s door and asked him if he’d like to go out for coffee and a chat. Zayn agreed, and they headed out.

It was cold outside; a thin layer of frost settled over everything, and their breaths came out in puffs of smoke. Louis was glad when they finally reached the warmth of the coffee shop across the street from their school. They took a seat near the window, and fell into the comfortable small talk they always had.

“So,” Louis said after a while, “Liam.” He chuckled when Zayn blushed. “Tell me about him.”

That was all he really needed to say to get Zayn to start rambling excitedly like a small child. Watching the way Zayn’s eyes lit up with delight as he told Louis about Liam, Louis found that he couldn’t help but feel happy as well. But there was something else he felt; a kind of emptiness, a strange longing. Not for Zayn, but for the kind of relationship Zayn and Liam had between them. He hadn’t even known he’d wanted it until now, but he did.

Startled by this sudden revelation, Louis didn’t notice when Zayn suddenly stopped talking and was looking at him with a weird expression on his face. “You alright, Lou?” he asked, and Louis jumped. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine, totally fine,” he said cheerily.

“You don’t look fine,” Zayn said. “In fact, you look downright exhausted.”

“Oh.” Louis paused, running a hand through his hair self-consciously. “Well, uh. Exams have been pretty stressful.” It wasn’t a lie; in between his exams and tutoring Eleanor, he hadn’t had much time to relax.

Zayn nodded understandingly. “Yeah, but you look like you haven’t slept well in days.”

Louis had to suppress a laugh. He definitely hadn’t slept well for days, but exams were far from the reason. “Exams are over now, so I think I’ll be fine. Really,” he added for emphasis, when Zayn was still unconvinced.

Zayn sighed. “Don’t lie to me, Louis It’s Harry, isn’t it?”

“I—” Louis started, then realized there was probably no point in denying it. They all lived together, and seeing as he’d probably, on some occasion, been woken up at three in the morning by the loud noises coming from Louis’ bedroom—well, Zayn was a smart guy, he could put the pieces together. “Yeah,” he admitted.

Zayn smiled, but it was more sympathetic than anything. “Still hate him?”

Louis was tempted to say yes, but then shut his mouth, seeing as it wasn’t exactly standard protocol to be fuck buddies with the guy you hated. “I don’t even know,” he decided. “He’s still the annoying prick he was a couple months ago, only now he’s like, a _really attractive_ annoying prick? God, what am I saying,” Louis trailed off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

Zayn chuckled. “I know how you feel, man.”

Louis looked up. “You do?”

Zayn nodded. “When I first started talking to Liam,” he said, “I was so annoyed all the time, because he was always on my mind, you know? I’d always lie awake and try to make sense of my thoughts, and it took me quite a long time to figure out how I really felt about him.”

Louis nodded slowly, a feeling of dread settling in his gut as he realized what Zayn was trying to imply. “No, Zayn, you’ve got this all wrong,” he laughed. “I don’t have _feelings_ for—” Louis was cut off by the sight of that familiar mop of curly hair sitting two tables down. Christ, why was he always running into Harry everywhere he went? As if he needed a reminder of the boy that always plagued his thoughts.

“Uh…Louis?” 

But Louis didn’t hear Zayn’s question; he was too busy looking at the girl sitting across from Harry. A blonde-haired girl with a fake-looking smile, who was chatting animatedly. Probably just a friend, he told himself, ignoring the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. And Louis was just about to turn away when he saw it, that small brush of her fingers on Harry’s arm. That hint of something more that made his hands involuntarily clench into fists.

“Louis, are you alright?” Zayn waved a hand in front of Louis’ face.

Louis snapped out of it, not even realizing he was holding his breath until now. “Me? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Never been better.” Nonetheless, it took a lot of effort to finally pry his eyes off the couple two tables across, and when he finally did, he was so busy wondering what the hell was going on that he didn’t notice the corner of Harry’s lips curl into a small smile.

…

Louis was pacing restlessly around the house when Harry walked in through the front door, slamming it shut. He had half a mind to walk up to Harry and ask about the girl, but then decided not to. It wasn’t like he cared at all, I mean, they weren’t dating or anything, and Harry could talk to whoever he wanted. So Louis just sat down on the couch, fuming silently until Harry sat down next to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, nudging Louis playfully in the side. Louis ignored him, shifting away to the other end of the couch. Harry followed, chuckling to himself. “Hm?”

“Nothing,” Louis mumbled. “Go away.”

“Miss me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you sitting here throwing a silent tantrum like a three-year-old who got their toy taken away?”

Louis huffed indignantly, shoving Harry away. “Am not!”

Harry laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Alright, alright.” They just sat there in silence for a moment. Louis wanted to get up and leave but he didn’t, because then Harry would think he was mad at him or something which he definitely wasn’t, he was just sitting here because he wanted to and he didn’t have any questions burning at the back of his mind about any blonde-haired girls at any coffee shops.

“Who was she?”

The question slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. _Shit._ Now he’d gone ahead and done it. He looked down at the ground, ignoring Harry’s knowing chuckle.

“A friend of mine,” Harry replied, drawing out the syllables in the way that meant it was clearly something more. “Why does it matter?”

“Yeah,” Louis said, rolling his eyes. “A friend who just has to reach over and not so subtly brush her fingers on your arm.”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. “So you were watching me the whole time?”

 _Fuck._ “No, of course not,” he protested. “I just happened to drop by and I was talking to Zayn and—” 

“Are you _jealous?_ ” Harry said, jaw dropping in mock disbelief.

“Nope, no way in hell.” But he could already feel his face heating up.

“Aw,” Harry cooed, smiling that stupid dimpled grin. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous.” He reached over and pinched his cheeks, like he was a puppy or something, what the fuck. Louis swatted his hands away and jumped off the couch.

“I told you, I’m not jealous!” Because really, it made no sense for him to be jealous. Harry had always been like this; moving from person to the next. He’d made it clear from the start that this was nothing more than a game to him. So why, now, did he suddenly care so much? 

He held Harry’s gaze, trying to sound as serious as he could. “In fact, as I said before, I couldn’t care less.” 

“Mmhmm. Sure, babe, whatever you say.”

“Okay,” Louis sighed. “What do you want?”

He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but Harry looked up suddenly. “What are you talking about?” 

His feigned innocence just fueled Louis’ anger even more. “Well first off,” Louis said through gritted teeth, “you’ve been acting like a right twat lately.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, seemingly unfazed. “Haven’t I always?” 

“Well, yes, but—” Louis didn’t quite know why he suddenly cared so much, either. “After that thing at the bar—I thought you at least cared about me, or something.” Oh God, this was stupid, he sounded like a twelve-year-old girl with a crush. He could already feel his face heating up.

Much to his dismay, Harry laughed. “Louis, babe,” he drawled. “You’re pretty and nice and a great fuck, but that’s all there is to it.”

“But—”

“What, don’t tell me you thought there was something more?” Harry chuckled, and this was it, Louis was going to crawl into a hole in the ground and never come out again.

“Of course not,” he said, hoping Harry didn’t notice the way his voice cracked. He got up and walked right out of the living room and down the hall, slamming his bedroom door shut. 

This wasn’t right, he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He hated Harry. He hated his bright green eyes, so deceptively innocent. He hated his curls and the way it felt to run his fingers through them. He hated Harry’s unpredictable behavior, how Louis could never really know what he was thinking. But most of all, he hated the fact that he cared, that he wanted to know more about the younger boy, and he hated the way it stung to know Harry didn’t feel the same. 

Louis sank down into his bed and buried his face under the covers. This was really getting out of hand, Louis thought to himself, and it needed to stop.

…

So by the next morning, Louis had made up his mind. If Harry could ignore Louis’ existence completely and go on a date with some girl, well then, Louis could have a life of his own too. There were so many other things he could do; he could go hang out with Zayn, he could go out for a jog, he could go shopping and not think about Harry at all. There was absolutely no reason why some stupid curly-haired boy should define his life.

He quickly got dressed and was just about to grab some breakfast when his phone buzzed. It was a text from Eleanor. 

_Hey Louis, are you busy right now? If not, could you meet me at the library? I need some extra help with my homework. Thanks xx_

“Yes,” Louis muttered to himself. Perfect timing.

He texted her back saying he would be there, and arrived at the library within minutes. Eleanor was sitting at a table near the window, dressed nicely. Louis was secretly glad he’d bothered to change into a decent t-shirt and jeans, and approached her with a small smile and a wave. She grinned back at him.

“Thanks so much for coming here, Louis,” she beamed. “It’s just, I have a paper due by the end of today and I have no idea how to write the conclusion for it. Could you maybe give me some pointers?”

But Louis wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixated at the table behind her, where Harry and Niall appeared to be studying.

“Great,” he muttered to himself. “Just what I needed to brighten my day.”

“Pardon me?” Eleanor looked up, confused.

“Oh,” Louis laughed. “Nothing, I was just thinking of, uh, how nice the weather is today.” He gestured vaguely outside the window, and Eleanor seemed to buy it. She smiled and nodded. 

Meanwhile, at the other table, Niall was packing up his stuff and appeared to be asking Harry if he wanted to go. Harry shook his head, and waved Niall goodbye as he left. When he turned back around, he met Louis’ gaze and his eyes widened just for a moment, before he shot Louis a knowing look and a smirk.

Louis swallowed, averting his gaze. “Okay, so,” Louis said rather quietly, hoping to get this over with. “What do you need help with?”

Eleanor handed him her paper and began to talk about something Louis really couldn’t care less about. He was too focused on watching Harry play with his pencil out the corner of his eye. It didn’t even look like he was doing homework at all—no, he was just spinning the pen around in his hand, holding it up to his mouth, and, oh, _God,_ he was sucking on the end of the pencil and looking straight at Louis.

Louis’ heartbeat quickened immediately, and he casually adjusted his jeans. Harry grinned, adjusting his position so he was splayed out in the plastic chair. It reminded Louis of when he used to tutor Harry, and all the things Harry would do to try and catch his attention. Except now, Eleanor sat between them. So that was what he was trying to do, then? Humiliate him in front of her? Louis could see where this was going, and the results seemed to be in Harry’s favour. 

He quickly looked back at Eleanor just in time to pretend to be listening to what she was saying. “Yeah, yeah, that’s great,” he said, though his voice came out a little hoarse. “Just, um, you see this part?” He pointed at a random section of her paper, and spun a long-winded bullshit story about how it was too vague and needed more examples, or whatever, he didn’t really know what he was saying. Eleanor just nodded, taking it all in.

Louis’ gaze darted quickly back to Harry again, only to see that he was looking right back at him with heavy-lidded eyes, as he slowly unbuttoned the top button of his collar shirt. _Shit._ Louis bit his lip absently.

But then Eleanor said something that caught his—and Harry’s—attention. “Wow, you’re so smart, Louis,” she said with a smile. “And by the way, you look very handsome today.” And wait, was that a wink? Okay, Louis was totally seeing things here. Eleanor wasn’t _flirting_ with him, was she?

But, according to Harry’s tightly clenched jaw, maybe she was.

“I, uh, thank you,” Louis stammered. He was flattered, really, but he wasn’t into Eleanor. He hadn’t even thought of taking someone else out since he and Harry started doing whatever it was they did. “You look very nice yourself,” he said, returning the compliment.

“Oh, Louis, you’re so sweet,” she giggled, batting her eyelashes. “Anyways, with your help, I’m sure I’ll get a good grade on this,” she said as she put her books into her messenger bag. “Well, thanks again. I really appreciated your help today, Louis.”

Louis nodded blankly, still watching Harry, utterly confused he saw that Harry’s hand had balled into a tight fist around the pen he was holding. But Harry didn’t care, Louis reminded himself. 

Did he?

“Would you like to um, go grab some coffee?” Eleanor looked at Louis nervously, and Louis suddenly found himself on the verge of laughing. A _coffee date?_ If a gorgeous girl had asked him out for coffee a few months ago, he’d have jumped on the chance. But now…his eyes were still fixated on Harry, who was shooting him a challenging look. Daring him to do it.

Harry may have thought he’d had the upper hand. But now that he knew the effect he had on Harry, Louis had a trump card up his sleeve. And this was his chance to use it, to get back at Harry for everything he’d done in the past.

“Of course,” he replied, smiling sweetly.

And as Harry’s pen dropped right out of his hand and landed with a clatter on the floor, Louis didn’t even bother to hide the grin that threatened to split his face.

…

The date was awkward at best, and truth be told, Louis spent the entire time wondering how Harry would react when he finally went home. He knew he was being a manipulative prick for using Eleanor to make Harry jealous, but reminded himself that it wasn’t his fault, that Harry was the one who’d started this. Harry and his stupid mind games.

At last, the date was over. Louis at least had the decency to walk Eleanor back to her dorm. As she looked shyly up at him, Louis realized that on any other date, this would be the perfect opportunity to kiss the girl.

But he didn’t. Instead he waved goodbye, telling her he would text her later, and left promptly.

On the way back to Harry’s place, Louis’ heartbeat sped up involuntarily. He knew it was pointless, really; he’d known Harry long enough now to understand that it probably wasn’t a big deal to the younger boy, and he wasn’t expecting anything. 

So when he walked through the door, he didn’t expect Harry to already be waiting there. And he definitely didn’t expect Harry to shove him forcefully back against the door, his back crashing painfully into it. He didn’t even have time to blink an eye before Harry had grabbed the front of his shirt and crashed his lips into Louis’.

“How was your date?” Harry said between kisses, and Louis couldn’t even think coherently enough to respond. This Harry, this was a different Harry from the one he’d seen yesterday, the one impassive to everything Louis said or did. This Harry was aggressive, with a tight grip on Louis’ shirt collar, eyes dark and dangerous. 

“Look at you, all dressed up for your date. So fucking pretty.” Harry’s hands were everywhere, thumbing the curve of his jaw, sliding up the back of Louis’ shirt, toying with the hem of his boxers. “D’you have fun?” he growled, sliding his hand and palming Louis’ cock through the fabric of his pants, and Louis tried unsuccessfully to bite back the moan that escaped his mouth. 

He looked up at Harry, whose hair was tousled, t-shirt askew and his pupils were blown up with pure lust. _Fuck,_ Louis thought, biting down hard on his lip, he was so fucking turned on right now. He bucked his hips, shamelessly thrusting into Harry’s hand. Harry promptly undid the zipper of Louis’ pants, letting them drop down to his ankles. He leaned in close so his hot breath tickled the spot just under Louis’ ear. “Did you fuck her?” His voice, low and guttural, sent a shiver through Louis’ spine. Louis can’t even think coherently—this, he doesn’t think he’s ever gotten this hard, this fast.

“Answer my question,” Harry said, more sternly this time, tightening his grip on Louis’ hipbone so his nails dug in painfully sharp. 

“I—that’s none of your—” Louis stuttered, trailing off as Harry slid his hand through his boxers and wrapped it around his cock.

“I knew it,” Harry said angrily. “You slut.” Louis tried to protest, tried to say that _Harry_ was the one who started all this, but Harry bit down on his neck, sucking hard, and he lost his train of thought entirely. “Bet you were thinking about me the whole time, weren’t you?”

It was more of a statement than a question, and Louis didn’t even bother denying it. Oh, he was always thinking of Harry, his curls, his eyes, his hands, everything. Harry was like a drug; always leaving him wanting more. But this—this high, this pure rush of exhilaration he got just from a single touch—this was worth it. 

Louis moaned as Harry yanked his boxers down, composing himself just enough to return the favour, and soon they were both naked, clothes lying in an abandoned pile on the floor.

Harry broke away from Louis’ grasp, and Louis couldn’t help the whine that escaped him. Harry smirked. “Wait here,” he said, hurrying off, and quickly returning with a bottle of lube. He quickly poured some on his hand and stroked his cock, and Louis reached out, itching to touch. Harry smacked his hand away, flipped Louis around and slammed inside of Louis. It was all he could do not to scream—Harry didn’t even bother to tease him this time, and the stretch felt so good. All the while Louis just took it all in, Harry’s quick, deep thrusts, the filthy words that poured out of Harry’s mouth. “You gonna bring her home, then?”

“Fuck, Harry—”

“Wanna fuck her right here on that couch?” Harry drags his nails down Louis’ back, leaving red marks. 

“Harry—please—” Louis couldn’t take this any longer, he was going to lose it any second, he knew it. 

Harry knew it too, his breaths short and ragged as he whispered, “Gonna fuck her while I watch, hm? Would you like that, looking right at me the whole time?”

And that’s all it takes for Louis to lose it, tightening his grip on the doorknob as he all over the door in front of him. Harry fucked him through and out the other side, until he’s strung-out and whimpering, and then Harry came, pulling out just in time so it dribbled down Louis’ thighs.

They both collapsed onto the ground, panting, limbs still interlocked in a sweaty mess. They sat there for a while, coming down from their high, Harry’s curls tickling Louis’ chin, as their heartbeats slowed down into a gradual rhythm. Louis was still in a daze, unable to process exactly what had just happened.

Harry, who’d been going out on dates with some random girl only yesterday, had just gotten _jealous._ Jealous of Eleanor. He briefly wondered if this was all some kind of dream, but the sore sensation spreading through him reminded him that it was real. God, he was going to feel this for _days._

“I didn’t really fuck her,” Louis blurted out suddenly. “Eleanor, I mean. We didn’t do anything. I don’t like her.”

Harry nodded understandingly, then smirked. “I know.”

Louis frowned. “Well then, why’d you—”

“It turned you on, though,” Harry continued. “I could tell. You have a thing for dirty talk, don’t you?”

Louis flushed bright red, but didn’t bother denying it. “I hate you,” he replied.

Harry chuckled, voice still rough and scratchy. “Says the one who’s covered in my come.”

Louis looked down at himself. Oh, right. “You’re a twat,” he muttered under his breath, ducking his head to cover the small smile that was playing at the corners of his mouth.


	9. Chapter 9

Winter break passed by quickly, and soon Christmas was approaching. As the snow outside began to fall, the other boys all left for vacations to go visit their families. First it was Niall, who announced that he was leaving for Ireland to visit his family. Then Liam and Zayn both travelled back to visit their own families back home. It was a pity they had to leave so early; exams had just ended and they’d finally gotten to hang out with one another. One thing Louis rather regretted since living at Harry’s place was that he’d barely gotten to know Liam and Niall. But now that he had, he found that he had taken a liking to them.

Liam, for one, was friendly, almost overly friendly in the way that in another person, it would have been annoying. But in Liam, who was just completely innocent and kind, Louis found it quite endearing, and he could understand why Zayn was so taken with him. Niall was similarly very amiable, but he was more loud and outgoing and had a great sense of humour. Louis found himself forming a close bond with both boys rather quickly, and he found he would rather miss their company. As he wished them a great trip and closed the door behind them, Louis felt a familiar wave of homesickness wash over himself.

He wondered how his family was doing back home in Doncaster. His mum didn’t phone him as often as she used to; she was busy, he supposed, what with her new job and taking care of his four sisters. Louis himself had promised to stay and tutor Eleanor until her last exam was over. Unfortunately, this meant that he was stuck here until the day before Christmas Eve (seriously, what kind of teacher made their students take an exam the day before Christmas Eve?).

Besides, things with Eleanor were getting increasingly awkward. She was clearly interested in him, and he felt terrible for having led her on—it was a spur of the moment decision, really, because Harry did that to a person, okay. And he didn’t exactly know how to explain to her that he had someone else in mind. “Oh, hey, sorry about the other day, I just did that to make Harry jealous and then proceed to have the best, most mind-blowing sex ever, so no, I don’t like you?”

He figured he should probably just keep his mouth shut. But fortunately, Eleanor didn’t try to take things farther than they already had. They got on fairly well anyways; she was nice and a good friend and Louis found it very easy to talk to her.

When the last tutoring session was over, Louis waved her goodbye, wishing her luck on her test, then heaved a sigh of relief. When he got back to the dorm, he immediately began getting ready to leave for his trip back home. If he hurried, he could leave in the afternoon and be there by the evening. He paced around the dorm, gathering his things. It felt surprisingly quiet with only Harry there, and so Louis let himself think about their situation for a bit.

Louis didn’t quite know what to think anymore. One minute he’d be pretending like Louis didn’t exist, and then the next he’d be ravishing the hell out of him. And his wildly unpredictable behaviour had become really annoying.

The other day, Louis had tried to talk to Harry about the whole jealousy thing, teased him a little for getting so worked up over Eleanor, but to no avail. Harry had just flipped their roles right around and then proceeded to make fun of Louis for being reduced to a whimpering mess while Harry fucked him against the wall. And Louis had nothing to say to that.

So maybe it was true, then. Maybe Louis was reading too much into this; after all, he himself had gotten a little jealous of that blonde-haired girl, and he sure as hell didn’t have feelings for Harry. Maybe the incident at the bar had been just that; Harry helping him out, with no ulterior motive. Maybe their relationship—the world being used loosely of course—really was purely sexual, and as Harry had said, there was “nothing more to it.”

When this all occurred to him, Louis finally let himself relax. Overthinking things, Louis had realized, didn’t do any good for him. His best bet was to not think about it at all—to just let things _be_. And for the first time since meeting Harry, he found himself actually quite enjoying it. Well, the sex part, anyway. 

Louis had never done anything quite like this. Though far from a prude, he liked to think that the people he got into bed with were ones he at least cared about, and he liked to make sure they were okay with it too. But sex with Harry was different on a whole new level. Sex with Harry was hot, aggressive, passionate, completely reckless and mind-blowing and everything he never knew he wanted. From his skilled hands to his defined collarbones to his low, guttural moans. It wasn’t just that Harry was far more experienced and good at what he did. It was something else—how with just one look of his eyes, he could go from wanting to rip Harry’s throat out from wanting to fuck him senseless. The way Harry knew _exactly_ what turned Louis on, how their bodies molded together just right. 

And, even better, was the fact that it all came without the emotional attachment. Neither of them had any obligation to the other; they didn’t have to worry about going on dates and spending time with each other. Louis could go on his tutoring sessions with Eleanor and go out for a drink with his buddies and Harry wouldn’t have to tag along. Likewise, Harry could go flirt with whatever girls he wanted at whatever party he wanted to, and Louis wouldn’t even bat an eye. 

They didn’t have to hold back, either. One minute, they could be shouting at each other, arguing over the smallest things, and the next they could be tangled up in the bedsheets screaming each others’ names. And when it was over it was over; no cuddles, no words of love. They could just get up and get on with whatever they had been doing before. In fact, they saw very little of each other asides from the time they spent in each others’ bedrooms.

Louis smiled to himself and returned to packing his suitcase. After much effort, he finally abandoned his attempt to fit his bulky parka into his miniscule suitcase, and looked over at Harry. He was sprawled out on the couch, flipping through the channels aimlessly.

“So, uh, I’m leaving for Doncaster later today,” Louis said.

“Yeah, I know,” Harry replied. “To visit your family, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis nodded. “What about you?” he asked, and when Harry raised an eyebrow in confusion, he continued, “Are you going on vacation anywhere?”

“Nope.” Harry shook his head, eyes still trained on the telly.

“Why not?” Louis asked. 

“What do you mean, why not?” Harry turned to face him.

Louis shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought you might want to get away from here during the holidays?”

“It’s not like I’ve got any other place to go,” Harry shrugged. Louis pondered this for a moment, puzzled; Harry, who had a car, wealthy parents, could probably afford a private jet if he wanted—Harry had nowhere else to go but stay inside his school. Louis didn’t quite believe it, but he didn’t press on, just nodded.

“Besides,” Harry said, “why leave the school when I get to be stuck here with you? We’ve got the whole place to ourselves for another week.” Harry winked. “Think of all the things we could be doing.”

Louis rolled his eyes. He finally managed to shove the jacket inside the suitcase, which had been stuffed to the brim—he figured he could never go wrong in being thoroughly prepared. He had only just zipped it up when he realized he’d forgotten to bring his favourite pair of jeans. “Fuck,” he muttered to himself.

Harry snapped his fingers. “Exactly. You catch on fast, Louis, I’m impressed.”

Louis looked up in confusion, then it dawned on him. “Shit, no, that’s not what I—” he stammered, “I was talking to my suitcase—” _What?_ Talking to his suitcase, yeah, real smooth.

Harry laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling a bit. “Yeah, sure. What do you have in there anyway, your entire closet?” 

“Presents,” Louis said. “For my sisters, and my mum. You know, ‘from Santa’,” he said, doing the finger quotes. Christmas was a pretty big deal for Louis’ family, especially so for the younger girls, who still squealed with glee as they ripped open their presents in the morning to reveal their favourite toys. And since it was the rare chance he got to hang out with his family, Louis wanted to make them happy.

“Ah,” Harry nodded with a small smile, his curls bobbing up and down as he turned back to the television, the colours of the light playing on the contours of his face. Louis briefly contented himself with staring at Harry out the corners of his eyes, until he saw what was showing on the screen and his eyes widened in shock.

_“Breaking news. A car accident has occurred at the train station. At around 12:00 pm, two cars driving way over the speed limit crashed into the wall of the train station. The drivers suffered minor injuries, and luckily no one else was hurt. However, all trains leaving and arriving at the train station will be postponed until further notice. The staff apologizes for the inconvenience this may cause.”_

When the newscast was over, Harry turned to look at Louis, who was speechless.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um. Did you get your train ticket yet?” he asked weakly.

Louis shook his head, sinking down onto the couch. He knew he was being selfish, but he couldn’t help but feel a wave of sadness wash over him. He didn’t have a car, he obviously couldn’t walk there, and there was really no other way to go but by train. He sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. “I’ll never make it to Doncaster on time.” For the first time in his life, he’d be spending his birthday and Christmas alone.

He could feel Harry’s hand hovering above his back, as if unsure of what to do, but then he quickly withdrew it, fidgeting with his fingers. 

Louis sighed again, then shrugged. He’d have to call his mum later and tell her he couldn’t make it. He reached over to unzip his suitcase, but to his surprise, Harry’s hand closed tightly around his wrist. “Wait, I’ll drive you.”

Louis jerked his head up to look at Harry, who looked serious. “Really?” he asked, dumbfounded. 

Harry nodded. “Yeah, why not? I’ve got a perfectly good car.”

“But—” Louis paused, unsure why Harry was suddenly being so nice. “It’s a three hour drive, I mean, you really don’t have to.”

“What, so you think it’d be better to have you moping around here all depressed for the entire week?” Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’d rather drive you.”

“Okay,” He relaxed, allowing himself to smile. “Thanks, Harry, I owe you a ton.”

As soon as the words left his mouth he immediately regretted them, seeing the smirk that crept up on Harry’s face. “Yeah, you owe me a lifetime of sexual favours.” Louis opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off as Harry grinned at him. “I’m only joking.” He grabbed his car keys from the table. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

He got up and sauntered over to the door. Louis took that as his cue to get up to follow him, dragging the suitcase along out the door. 

The trip down the lift was quiet. Louis fidgeted with his fingers uneasily; usually Harry would fill the silence with some annoying quip intended to infuriate Louis, but not this time, for some reason. It felt almost strange, to be in such close proximity to Harry yet not screaming at the younger boy or tugging at his hair or raking his nails down his back. Louis’ hands almost itched with the urge to just _touch_ him, before he realized he was being creepy and clasped his hands together.

The doors opened, and they walked to Harry’s car and clambered in. Harry started the car, and in no time, they were speeding down the road, with the windows rolled down slightly, the breeze playing with Harry’s hair.

“So, uh, do you know how to get there?” Louis asked. 

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I know the general directions, just tell me your address when we get close to it.”

“Okay,” Louis said, and they fell silent again. He could feel Harry sneaking little glances at him every once in a while, but only returned the glances quickly out the corner of his eye. It was weird, to be honest; the way they were totally comfortable with each other with the lights off, but in a normal situation like this, they hardly had anything to say to each other.

So Louis reached over to turn on the radio. His eyes immediately lit up as he recognized the song playing on the radio. “Oh, I love this song!” he exclaimed. 

He looked over at Harry, who was smiling. “Yeah, the Script’s a great band,” he said, and Louis’ eyes widened. “You like them too?” He’d never known Harry had a great taste in music, but then again, he knew next to nothing about Harry.

“Yeah,” Harry said, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. He looked almost nostalgic as he said, “They came here about three or so years ago, and I went; it was a great show.”

At this Louis couldn’t help it, his jaw dropped immediately. “Me too!” He couldn’t hide his surprise. “I can’t believe it, we were at the same concert before we even met.” He chuckled. “What are the chances…”

Harry laughed, and Louis was surprised at how easy it sounded, completely natural, and yet Louis had almost never heard such a genuine laugh come from the younger boy. “Yeah,” he said. “Must be fate telling you, ‘hey, this is the guy you’ll end up fucking three years later.’” 

Louis rolled his eyes, because of course Harry just had to turn every conversation into something sexual. He didn’t reply, though, and soon they sank into silence again, just listening to the song blaring from the speakers and watching the scenery fly past their windows.

The silence wasn’t broken again until a couple hours later, when Louis recognized the buildings near his neighbourhood. “Oh, we’re almost there,” Louis piped up. “Just, uh, keep going straight and—wait, what are you doing?”

Harry had veered the car off to the right and stopped at the side of the road. “Oh,” he said nonchalantly, “I figured out how you’re gonna pay me back.”

“Okay,” Louis said. “And how is that?”

Harry parked the car and clambered out, slamming the door shut. For a moment Louis thought he was going to lock him inside or something, and then Harry opened the door of the passenger side and tugged at his arm, grinning slyly. “Get in the back seat,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “You are about to experience the wonders of your very first blowjob from Harry Styles.”

“What—” Louis laughed nervously, glancing around. Thankfully no one around them had noticed their weird interaction. “No,” he hissed. “Not now!”

Harry, bless him, had the nerve to look genuinely confused. “Why not?” he asked, crossing his arms, as if it was no big deal. Like he handed out blowjobs all the time in random backseats. Louis’ stomach clenched a little at the thought, but he ignored it. 

“Wh—what do you mean why not?” Louis rambled, flustered. “For one, it’s freezing cold outside.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” Harry said, batting his eyelashes. 

“Wh—there are people all around us. People will _see_.”

“Oh come on, Louis, relax.” Harry grinned. “What’s life without a little adventure?”

Louis ignored the blush heating up his cheeks, and sighed, defeated. “Can’t we just… do it somewhere else?”

“Well, there is something quite romantic about backseats, don’t you think,” Harry said dreamily.

“You’re deluded,” Louis muttered in response, but he climbed into the back quickly as to avoid any suspicious passersby. Harry closed the door behind them.

As soon as they were trapped in the small space, Harry pushed Louis right up against the window and captured Louis’ lips in his, in a desperate and messy kiss. Louis kissed Harry back with just as much fervour, licking into his mouth eagerly. At the same time, he was wriggling against Harry’s grip, trying to slide down so he was out of view from the window. That suddenly became impossible, though, as Harry grinded his hips into Louis with so much force that the leather seats squeaked. Louis let out a whimper, forgetting everything else as he rocked right back into the younger boy, his only intention being to get the friction he needed. He could feel Harry smirk against his lips as he noticed Louis’ enthusiasm; the younger boy responded by pulling away and sliding his hands down right to the hem of his jeans, sliding his finger teasingly across the patch of exposed skin there, and Louis could feel his dick straining against his jeans. Harry’s fingers played with the button of his jeans, taking his time, and Louis groaned, his voice so low and needy he couldn’t even recognize it. “Fucking hurry _up_.” 

At this, Harry’s breath seemed to hitch and his eyes darkened. “Or what?” he teased, wanting to milk Louis’ reaction for all it was worth.

“Or I’ll come in my pants like a fourteen-year-old,” Louis hissed, too far gone to feel even remotely embarrassed at the effect Harry had on him. Harry seemed to know—Harry always seemed to know—and he finally undid the fly of Louis’ jeans, yanking both his trousers and pants off in one motion so they hung down around his ankles. 

Harry leaned down, pressed his hands to Louis’ bare thighs and licked slowly at the tip of his cock before taking Louis in his mouth. The feeling of Harry’s hot, wet mouth closing around his erection sent shivers down Louis’ spine and he groaned, fisting his hands in Harry’s hair. Harry hummed appreciatively as he sucked him down even further, licking a stripe tantalizingly slowly up the side of Louis’ cock. Louis gasped, his hands dug even further into Harry’s hair. He sucked and licked with abandon, bobbing his head up and down. 

“Fuck, Harry—” Louis let the back of his head thump against the window, barely even noticing the way the door handle dug painfully into his back, because Harry felt so fucking _good._ “Want—I want to—” He pulled at Harry’s hair and Harry understood, finally taking Louis’ cock inside his mouth all the way.

Louis could feel himself hit the back of Harry’s throat but Harry didn’t stop, just taking it as Louis thrust into Harry’s mouth. He moaned, pleasure shooting through his every vein, and couldn’t resist looking down at Harry. His cheeks were flushed, pupils blown apart with lust and he was looking right back up at him through his long, dark eyelashes.

It was that, the intense look in Harry’s eyes, pupils blown apart with lust, that had Louis coming apart completely. Harry seemed to sense it, too; he pulled off but not fast enough and Louis’ back arched as he came, spurting stripes of white all over Harry’s face and into his open mouth. 

Harry swallowed and licked his lips, which were red and swollen. He wiped his sleeve across his face, an innocent smile plastered onto his face as if it hadn’t just been streaked with Louis’ come. Louis felt a strange urge to laugh because he looked so ridiculously cute like this, all debauched and fucked out, and still smiling sweetly back at Louis. 

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Louis’ lips had closed over his in a kiss that was soft and almost gentle. Louis could taste himself on Harry’s lips and he pulled Harry close to him, running a hand through his hair which was now slicked with sweat. He could feel the outline of Harry’s erection pressing against his inner thigh and paused, briefly wondering if he should return the favour. It wasn’t like he’d ever gotten a blowjob from a guy before, so who could blame him for not knowing the proper etiquette or whatever. But before he could entertain the thought further, he heard a car rushing past them outside in the street and was hit with the realization that they were in the car and perfectly visible to everyone passing by. 

He jerked back, pulling his jeans on hastily, and Harry raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

“Something _wrong?”_ Louis gestured to the window. “You just sucked me off right here in front of everyone! Oh God,” he groaned. “I hope no one saw that. I used to live here you know, what if someone I knew had seen, they’d never let me live it down.”

Louis stopped his rambling, seeing the smug look on Harry’s face. “What?”

Harry let out a chuckle. “Oh, Louis,” he said, shaking his head.

“What?” Louis repeated emphatically.

“Louis, babe,” Harry said, still smiling. “The car has tinted windows. They can’t see on the inside.”

Louis’ jaw dropped open in disbelief, as he realized he’d been played. Again. “You little shit,” he said, mustering as much hate into his voice as he could. Which probably wasn’t much, considering the grin that was threatening to split Harry’s face. “I’m going to kill you, I swear.”

“Well if I’m dead,” Harry replied with a straight face, “then who’ll drive you to see your mum?”

Louis scowled. “I can drive,” he muttered, though really, he didn’t have a license. “Or, well, I can try.”

Harry rolled down the window and held his car keys right over the edge. “Not if I toss these outside the window, you can’t.”

“Ugh,” Louis muttered, crossing his arms. “Fuck you.”

“That’s right,” Harry continued, “And whose standards would be low enough to fuck you when I’m gone?”

Louis gasped. “You fucking _twat!_ ” he exclaimed. “I’ll have you know that there are boys and girls lining up to date me, thank you very much.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, in your dreams, sweet cheeks.” He pinched Louis’ cheek again, causing the older boy to blush. Then he looked down at the sleeve of his sweater and seemed to realize it was dirty. “Hey, do you by any chance have an extra jumper I could borrow?” he asked. 

Louis rolled his eyes. “Should’ve wiped your face with a tissue.” But he got out the car obediently and went to the back, rummaging around in the suitcase.

Harry pouted. “It’s your own fault for getting come all over my face.”

“Hey, that wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t sucked me off _in the car_ of all places,” Louis tossed back, but threw a white sweater at him anyway. “Thanks.” Harry pulled it on and smiled back at Louis. He had dimples. Louis had never noticed this before, and the sight made Louis’ stomach flip. He wondered how it was possible for someone to look so adorably innocent when barely three minutes ago Louis’ cock had been inside his mouth.

As they got back in the front seats again, and sped off down the road, Louis kept his gaze fixed on the scenery outside the window and he definitely didn’t sneak little sideways glances at Harry.


	10. Chapter 10

Within another twenty minutes they had arrived, and were just pulling on to the driveway of Louis’ house, when Louis saw the door swing open to reveal two girls, who were hopping up and down with excitement. His heart swelled up a bit at the sight of his two youngest sisters; even from the distance he could tell they’d grown so much taller.

“Louis!” they shouted as he quickly got out of the car, running towards them and picking them up, one in each arm.

“My, my, you two have gotten so much heavier,” he said with mock surprise. “What has Mum been feeding you?”

Jay appeared at the doorway, smiling widely. “Only the best homemade lasagna ever,” she said, leaning over to ruffle Louis’ hair. “Come on in, Boo bear, I’ve saved some for you.” She looked him over. “Look at you. God, those bags under your eyes. Uni’s been stressful?”

“I’m alright, mum, don’t worry.” Louis shrugged, putting the twins down and letting his mum pull him into a tight hug. “I’ve missed you,” she said into his shoulder, and Louis smiled. She felt like home. “I’ve missed you too Mum.” He pulled back, remembering. “Oh, right, I have to go get my luggage first.” 

He walked quickly back to Harry’s car, to see that Harry had gotten out of the car and was watching the scene unfold with amusement. “Boo bear, huh,” Harry teased. “Shut up,” Louis muttered, shooting him a glare. But then he saw that Harry was already holding on to his suitcase, and quickly took it back. “Oh. Thanks,” he said instead, taking the suitcase from Harry.

“And who might this lovely young lad be?” Jay said, walking out to meet them. 

“Right.” Louis walked back over to his mum. “Uh, Mum, this is Harry,” he said. “Harry, this is…my mum.”

Harry reached out his hand—where he’d developed a sudden courtesy, Louis had no idea. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Tomlinson,” he said charmingly, flashing a dimpled smile.

Jay shook it. “Nice to meet you too, Harry. You can call me Jay,” she said with a smile. She looked from Louis to Harry to Louis again, and Louis knew she was looking for further explanation. 

Louis swallowed, because this was about as awkward as it could get. Here was the guy he’d been having casual sex with, standing right in front of his mum. What the hell was he supposed to introduce Harry as? Harry wasn’t exactly his friend, and friends-with-benefits wasn’t right either. His mum didn’t need to know all the details of his sex life. “Roommate,” he decided on at last. “Harry’s my roommate. He, uh, drove me here.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said. “Anyways, I should get going now. Have a lovely day, Jay.” He turned to leave, but Jay stopped him. 

“You’re leaving already?” she asked. “Why don’t you come in and have some dinner with us? I’ve made too much lasagna anyways.” 

Louis’ eyes were pretty much bulging out at this point, because no, that was not a good idea. Harry was more than likely going to embarrass him in front of his mum. But Jay just glared at him as if to say _where are your manners this is not how I’ve raised you,_ then turned to look expectantly at Harry, whose eyes were wide with surprise. 

“Well, unless there’s somewhere you need to be, of course,” Jay added. “Then we won’t keep you long.”

“Uh,” Harry stammered. “No, uhm, I mean yes, that would be great. Thank you.” A small smile made its way onto his face, and they walked into the house.

Almost immediately, two heads poked out from behind the door frame. “Who’s ‘zat?” Phoebe asked, pointing to the mysterious curly-haired figure that was now looking around curiously.

“It’s rude to point, Phoebe,” Jay chastised. “This is Harry, Louis’ friend. Say hi to Harry.”

Obediently, the two girls emerged from behind the wall. “Hi, Harry,” they greeted in unison, grinning toothily. Phoebe reached out a hand. “You have pretty hair. Can I touch it?” 

A grin threatened to split Harry’s face, and Louis watched wondrously as he bent down and lowered his head. “Sure you can,” he replied, and the twins immediately ran their small hands through his curls, squealing with delight.

Louis shook his head, because this was definitely the weirdest day of his life.

They sat down at the dinner table moments later, Jay having gathered the entire family, and now the girls were deep in animated conversation with Harry, save for Fizzy who had a severe case of the flu and was coughing heavily. Louis leaned over and let her rest her head on his shoulder while he looked around, amused, at the twins tugging furiously on Harry’s curls which had become their new toy, while Lottie was having a discussion with him about some hot new boyband.

Dinner, then, was not at all as awkward as Louis thought it would be. Except maybe the part where Jay interrogated Harry about his life in the way that she always did in the rare cases he brought someone home—what was he studying for university, what his parents did for a living, what did he want to do when he graduated. But it seemed like that was awkward only for Louis; Harry answered the questions with ease—he was majoring in sociology, his stepdad owned a bank, his mum wanted him to work for that bank when he graduated. And then the conversation grew more lighthearted from there, so Louis could relax. Louis listened as Harry talked about life in London, his hobbies, his older sister Gemma. And Louis couldn’t help but feel a bit ashamed when he realized that after all the nights they spent together in the bedroom or even the couch, after knowing every curve of Harry’s body like the back of his hand, he’d never bothered to get to know Harry himself. 

He looked back down at his lasagna and ate a quick mouthful, trying to distract himself from this train of thought. He’d always thought he could just get rid of Harry’s presence, and so didn’t bother to know more about his life. But now, slowly, Harry was growing on him, fitting into his life like he’d always been there, sitting at his family dinner table like he belonged. Louis blinked, blinked again, and he was still there. _Whatever happened to ‘just forget about this and be out of each others’ lives’_ , he thought bitterly, because clearly that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

When they had all finished dinner Louis watched in a sort of daze as his twin sisters tugged at Harry’s sleeves and dragged him over to the living room couch, where they tied pink ribbons into his hair, giggling all the while. Harry was making no effort to resist, cooperating completely and even letting them slip a tiara onto his head. 

“Look, Harry,” they giggled, “you’re a princess now!” They led him to the mirror on the wall, where he said in a mock girly voice, “Mirror mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?” and they laughed so hard they nearly toppled over the Christmas tree standing in the corner, and Lottie and Fizzy had to hurriedly stand it back up again.

Louis chuckled to himself, watching Harry make a fool out of himself just to humour his little sisters, still somehow managing to look utterly stunning even in Louis’ old white jumper, with pink ribbons littered in his brown curls. Louis had never seen Harry smile so wide before, and he suddenly found himself wishing he could make Harry smile like that.

Because the Harry he was seeing now was almost like a completely different person, and not just because of the girly hair accessories. It was like the cheeky, arrogant Harry he thought he knew had completely peeled away to reveal another Harry on the inside. And it was this, this small fraction of Harry, the one who opened car doors for him, the one who wasn’t afraid to beat up mean guys at the bar for him, that Louis wanted to get to know. 

Suddenly, a million questions were racing inside Louis’ head. He wanted to know Harry. He wanted to know his favourite food, his favourite song. What made him smile, what made him cry. How he first met Liam and Niall. Why despite the fact that it was Christmas Eve, a holiday everyone should spend with their loved ones…Harry didn’t have anywhere to go.

So a few hours later, when the girls were all tucked into bed, Louis and Harry found themselves alone together. Louis looked over at Harry, who looked right back at Louis.

“I know I’m hot, stop staring,” Harry chuckled, breaking the silence. For once, Louis was grateful for his cheekiness. It made the whole situation much less awkward.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Louis muttered. “Anyway, um. Thanks again for driving me here.”

“Sexual favours, remember.” Harry winked. Louis tried not to blush.

“ _Anyway,_ ” Louis continued, “Are you going anywhere for Christmas? Like, to meet up with your parents? Your sister?” 

Harry snorted. “Nah. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Why not?”

The look Harry gave him told him he was treading on thin ice. He quickly looked down, and was about to change the subject when Harry said quietly, “Haven’t heard from them in a year or so. They’re always busy with stuff at the bank, they don’t have time for me. And my sister moved out a few years back. I don’t blame her.” He kept his eyes trained outside the window, but Louis could see that his jaw was clenched tightly.

“Oh,” was all Louis could really say at the moment. He could feel it, something heavy hanging in the air, a subject Harry would rather keep untouched. And yet—he’d confided in Louis, of all people. 

“You could stay here with us,” he offered. “I mean, if you want to. We have a spare room.”

Harry looked at him with an unreadable expression, holding the gaze for a long, long time before he broke it, looking away. “That’s okay. It’s getting late, and I’ve already stayed much longer than I should’ve.” He got up, and walked quickly to the door. “Thanks for having me,” he said to Jay, who had just arrived downstairs.

“You can stay overnight, if you’d like,” she offered, but he shook his head. “Thank you, but I should really go. Oh, and,” he said, turning back around and waving, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Jay replied, while Louis just stood there, dumbfounded, watching his car drive away into the distance, not knowing what to think of the encounter he’d just had.

“Hey, come help me with the dishes,” Jay said, heading into the kitchen. Louis followed obediently. “I didn’t have time to do them earlier, what with the girls all running around and knocking everything over.”

Louis rolled up his sleeves and began scrubbing the dishes. After a long moment of silence, with only the sound of the running water, Louis was surprised when his mum finally spoke up.

“So,” Jay said, turning to Louis. “How long have you two been dating?”

The plate in Louis’ hand nearly slid right out of his grip, and he caught it just in time.

“ _What?_ ” he asked incredulously. “No. No, no, no. _No._ Mum, we’re not—”

Jay rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to deny it. I’ve seen those looks you give him.”

“Looks? What looks?” So maybe Louis hadn’t been as discreet as he thought when he’d been staring at Harry from across the table. But he was allowed to, okay, Harry was really fucking attractive but that didn’t mean they were dating or anything. “I told you, we’re just—it’s not what you think.” 

Jay laughed. “Alright, then, why was he wearing your sweater?”

Louis flushed bright red. “It’s a long story,” he mumbled, staring down at the sink drain because that was where this conversation was going.

Fortunately, his mum didn’t press on. “Well,” she sighed, “have you told him how you feel?”

“What—what do you mean?” he said, looking bewilderedly at her even though he knew exactly what she meant. But it was all wrong—he didn’t have _feelings_ for Harry. He _couldn’t,_ not when he’d tried so hard to push aside those kinds of thoughts. “I don’t have feelings for him,” he muttered, staring down at the sink. Concentrating on the sound of the running water, furiously scrubbing the dish in his hands. Anything but Harry. Anything. 

“Louis,” his mum said softly, pressing a hand to his forearm. “You don’t have to lie to me.”

Louis opened his mouth to reply. There were a million words poised on the edge of his tongue, a million denials, a million other lies he could have told. But before he could say any of it, he stopped himself. 

He could lie all he wanted to. He could lie to Zayn and his mum and maybe convince them that he really didn’t have feelings for Harry. But in the end, no matter how many lies he told, he would never be able convince himself.

He’d always been one to avoid his own thoughts, push them right to the back of his head where maybe if they stayed there long enough, they would disappear entirely. But maybe it was about time he faced the truth. 

The truth that, somewhere along the line, despite all his efforts not to, he had ended up falling for Harry Styles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't already, please check out my tumblr, [stylinsunshine](http://stylinsunshine.tumblr.com) :)


	11. Chapter 11

“You were right,” Louis muttered into the phone.

Because of course the first thing in the morning Louis did after he woke up the next day, was phone Zayn to tell him about the revelation he should’ve had a million years ago.

And Zayn knew it, too. Knew exactly what Louis was talking about. _Harry._ He answered with a chuckle. “I would say ‘I told you so’, but I’m a good friend, so I won’t,” Zayn gloated. Louis groaned.

“Seriously, mate, this is not the time. I—I _like_ him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m so fucking screwed, Zayn,” Louis exclaimed.

“Screwed, for sure,” Zayn snickered. Louis chose to ignore it in favour of hearing what he had to say next. “Well, what are you waiting for? It’s about time you told him.”

“Jesus, Zayn. I can’t just _tell_ him. He’s gonna think I’m—ugh, I don’t know,” Louis grumbled, burying his face in his pillow.

“Come on, Louis, it can’t be that bad,” Zayn assured, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Uh, he laughs at me for being such an idiot and tells me to get out of his house?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Zayn snorted. “How do you know he doesn’t feel the same way about you?”

Louis sighed. “This is _Harry Styles_ we’re talking about here, okay. This is the guy who goes to clubs just to pick up unsuspecting girls and guys, has sex with them, and dumps them the next day. Do you honestly think he’ll want to date me?”

There’s a silence, and then, “Well, how long have you guys been, you know, doing whatever it is you’re doing?”

Louis paused just to think about it, and answers, “Couple months or so.” Then he quirks an eyebrow, because Zayn was right.

“And there you have your answer,” Zayn said. “You’re the exception.”

Louis’ heart skipped a beat at this thought, but he quickly pushed it away. No, that was impossible. Harry himself had told him on many occasions that this was nothing more than a game to him. That sex was the only reason he kept Louis around. “But…” Louis began.

“Of course, I barely know him, so I could be reading this all wrong,” Zayn replied. “I’m just saying, you’ll never know until you try, right?”

Louis nodded before realizing Zayn couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks.”

“Anytime, mate—” Zayn’s voice was cut off by a familiar voice saying something in the background. “Sorry, gotta go, Liam’s getting impatient.”

“Oh, well then, I won’t keep you two from doing whatever it is you’re doing,” Louis joked, and then hung up. He tossed the phone on the carpet and sighed. Not only did he have to figure out his own feelings, but figuring out Harry was one of the most exhausting things he’d ever done. 

And so for the next few days, Louis tried his best not to think about Harry. He had a lovely time, just hanging out with his family, and catching up on everything he’d missed while he’d been away. He played with the twins, helped his mum take care of Fizzy while she was sick, talked to Lottie who he realized had suddenly grown up so much. He watched as the twins dashed downstairs on Christmas morning to hastily tear apart the wrapping paper of their gifts and squeal with delight. He couldn’t help but blush when the girls presented him with their handmade Christmas card, a wonderful stick-man drawing of their family together. And everything was just like it had always been. And he definitely did not miss Harry, not one bit.

So what if, when his mum said goodbye, she winked at him and told him “good luck”. So what if, on the car ride home, Stan asked him why he looked so happy and laughed when he didn’t respond. It didn’t mean anything. Didn’t mean that he was looking forward to seeing Harry again. 

As they approached the school, Louis felt himself starting to get nervous. What if Harry could tell? After all, Harry had a magical way of knowing everything. What if Harry were to realize Louis had broken their one unspoken rule, and actually developed feelings for him? What if he really was going to laugh at Louis, kick him out, and ended whatever they had between them? 

No, he was just being stupid, he reassured himself. It wasn’t like it was written all over his face anyway—Harry had no way of knowing how Louis felt. 

So Louis walked down the halls, found the door to room 403, and stood in front of it for a moment. He took a deep breath and braced himself before turning the key in the lock. Sure enough, Harry was home, a familiar tuft of curly hair poking out from behind the couch, which was turned away from Louis.

“Hey, Harry,” he called out without thinking. “I’m home.”

“Hey,” Harry said, but didn’t move from his spot on the couch. Louis walked over, only to see that he was lying face down on the couch. Louis reached over hesitantly to tilt his face up, ignoring the chills that ran up his spine from being at such close proximity to Harry again.

Harry sat up slowly—his cheeks were more flushed than usual, and his eyes were half-closed, but he smiled lazily up at Louis. Louis’ first thought was that he was drunk, but before he could act on that thought, Harry suddenly doubled over, coughing. Startled, Louis patted his back, wondering what the hell was going on.

“Are you alright?” he asked when Harry had stopped coughing. Harry looked up and nodded, though his eyes were a little watery. “’M fine,” he replied, but his voice was hoarse, his cheeks more flushed than usual. Louis knew now that something was definitely wrong.

“You don’t sound very convincing,” Louis muttered, pressing a hand to Harry’s forehead, recoiling immediately upon realizing how hot it was. “Fuck,” he said, “you’re really hot.”

“You say the nicest things,” he replied, sneaking an arm around Louis’ waist, but Louis pushed it away.

“Harry, you’ve got a fever,” Louis exclaimed. 

“No I don’t, I’m fine—” Harry broke off, coughing. Louis rubbed circles on his back sympathetically. 

“Fizzy,” he said, upon suddenly realizing, “She had the flu that other day! You must’ve caught it from her.” Louis got up quickly, and paused by the door. “Where do you keep your cold medicine? Do you even have cold medicine?”

“I don’t need any,” Harry mumbled, “I told you, I’ll be fine.” But he started coughing heavily again, curling up beneath the covers.

“Well, you’re clearly not,” Louis said dryly. He ran over to the kitchen and looked through the cabinets, finally finding some Tylenol. He poured a glass of water and returned to Harry’s room, handing him a tablet. To his surprise, Harry took it obediently, gulping it down right away.

“See?” he said. “I took it. Now I’ll be fine. You can go do whatever it is you want—”

“Oh, would you just be quiet for once and let me take care of you?” Louis said with a roll of his eyes, sitting down beside Harry. Harry half-smiled at this, and lay his head on the pillow. 

Louis fidgeted with his hands for a while before petting Harry’s head hesitantly. He’d had so much experience taking care of his younger sisters, but this was different somehow. He’s not quite used to this, this strange reversing of their roles. Harry was always the one in control, teasing and taunting Louis to the point where he couldn’t handle it anymore. But now, he looked down at the younger boy, and his eyes were watery and his hair was a mess and he looked so small and vulnerable huddled beneath the covers, that Louis felt a strange stuttering in his heart. Before he knew it, he was running his hands through Harry’s hair, stroking gently. Harry seemed to appreciate the gesture, eyes fluttering closed.

“Tired?” Louis asked. Harry only grunted in response. “Alright, I’ll let you get some rest then.” Louis got up, and Harry didn’t even respond. “Good night,” he mumbled, but Harry’s eyes were already closed and a soft snoring sound could be heard.

Louis left the room promptly, remembering how his mum would take care of his sisters if they were sick. First she’d give them cold medicine and tuck them in, which he’d already done. Next she’d make them some chicken soup, which apparently worked wonders on the common cold.

So Louis hurried over to the kitchen, opening the fridge to look for ingredients, ignoring the nagging voice in his head that said _you can’t even cook._ He’d watched his mum make this countless times, and it was simple enough, he was sure he could do it.

He got out the vegetables and cut them up into small, albeit rather uneven, pieces. Then he tossed them and the chicken into a pot, letting it simmer. He wasn’t sure if they were supposed to cook together or separately, but just threw them all together and hoped for the best.

When it was just about done cooking—at least, the chicken meat was no longer raw—he took everything out of the pot. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do next, so he just sprinkled a handful of salt on the soup, and some pepper too. Okay, so maybe he was worse at this than he thought. “Ah, fuck it,” he muttered, deciding to just go with his instincts, and added a bunch of other random spices he found in the cupboard. 

Finally, when it looked somewhat similar to the soup his mum always made, he breathed a sigh of relief. That was done. Although he should probably taste it first. to make sure it didn’t taste like crap. He walked over to the cupboard again to get a spoon, but wasn’t really looking where he was going, and knocked right into the edge of the kitchen table.

“Fuck,” Louis cursed under his breath, clutching his side in pain. He watched with bated breath as the bowl slipped from his hands, almost in slow-motion, and landed on the floor with a crash. He stared in horror down at the broken pieces of china, and the mess that used to be chicken soup, now pooling beneath his feet. 

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ,” he said again, more irritated this time, because fuck if everything he’d done in the past hour hadn’t just been completely ruined.

He quickly grabbed a handful of paper towels and was just about to mop up what was left of the soup when a figure appeared in the doorway, eyes half open and hair pressed almost flat against his face from where he’d been lying on the pillow.

“What are you doing?” Harry mumbled, looking half dazed and half confused, the effects of the pill still wearing off.

“I, uh,” Louis stood up and flailed his arms helplessly, letting them fall to his sides. “I made you chicken soup?” he said, with a sheepish smile that was more like a grimace.

He’d half expected Harry to burst out laughing or maybe tease him at his so obviously failed attempt to cook something so simple. But he definitely didn’t expect him to remain silent, his eyes widening slowly as his mouth hung open, looking almost incredulous.

“I’m sorry,” Louis apologized hastily. “I’ll clean everything up, I promise, I’ll even buy you a new bowl.”

But Harry wasn’t mad. He was smiling. Louis looked at him curiously. “Why are you so happy? I just pretty much destroyed your kitchen.”

Harry shook his head slowly. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, looking down. “Just…thanks, Louis.”

“Oh.” It was just soup, really, why was Harry thanking him? “It’s no big deal. Probably tasted horrible anyways. I can’t cook for shit, you know.” He laughed. “Just go back to sleep, okay? I’ll clean everything up, make you a new one.”

Harry looked at him again, an oddly fond expression in his eyes, before turning away and shuffling back into his bedroom. Louis watched his retreating backside curiously before shrugging again.

He opened the cupboard next to the fridge, where thankfully, there was a can of chicken soup. If only he’d just made it straight from the can in the start. He sighed. But it was too late now.

Well, at least nothing could go wrong now. Louis managed to open it, pour it into the bowl, and microwave it without spilling a drop. He secretly cheered at this small triumph, placed the bowl on a tray, and carried it carefully to Harry’s room.

Harry cracked open an eye as Louis walked in. So he wasn’t asleep then. Louis smiled at him, then sat down on the edge of the bed. “Tada,” he said proudly. “I didn’t break _anything.”_

“Wow,” Harry exclaimed with mock surprise. “That’s amazing, Louis.”

Louis beamed. “I know.” He set the tray on Harry’s lap, and got up to leave. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

He closed the door behind him, and set to cleaning up the kitchen. After a while, when it looked as good as new, he collapsed onto the couch and just rested for a while. 

When Louis opened his eyes again, the sky was dark, and hacking coughs could be heard from Harry’s room. He sighed and got up, poured a glass of water, and knocked on Harry’s door. “Ugh,” Harry groaned, which Louis took as his cue to walk right in.

He sat down on the bed and handed the glass to Harry, who looked up at him gratefully before drinking it all in one gulp and then laying back down. 

They sat silently for a while, Louis stroking Harry’s hair—it felt good, okay, and Harry seemed to like it. Or at least, he wasn’t complaining—and then Harry spoke up again.

“Thanks, Louis.” He paused. “For, y’know, making soup and all that.”

Louis stopped stroking Harry’s hair. “You’ve said that twice already,” Louis remarked. And oddly enough, he’d never heard Harry say thanks before this.

“Well ‘cause I pretty much ruined your whole day,” Harry sighed. “I’m supposed to feel bad. I think I owe you now.”

Harry sounded so upset, Louis felt his heart ache a little. “Well, yeah,” he said. “You now owe me a lifetime of sexual favours. Sound familiar?”

Harry let out a bark of laughter at this, and Louis grinned, happy at having cheered Harry up again. But then it quickly turned into another fit of coughing. Louis patted Harry’s back sympathetically. “Sorry,” he chuckled, and continued stroking Harry’s hair.

Eventually his coughing died out, and his eyes fluttered closed. Louis checked the time on the wall clock. He removed his hand from where it rested on Harry’s head of curls, and got up. “It’s getting late, I should let you get some rest—”

Then Harry did something that surprised Louis. With his eyes still closed, he grabbed on tightly to Louis’ wrist. Louis tugged a little, but he refused to let go. “Harry, love,” he coaxed gently. “Let go of my wrist.” He wasn’t sure how the nickname had slipped out from his mouth, but he supposed it had something to do with how utterly endearing Harry looked, bundled up in the covers.

“Mhmm,” Harry murmured, shaking his head slightly. He opened his eyes and looked up at Louis with what could only be described as the cutest puppy dog eyes Louis had ever seen in his life, to rival that of his baby sisters’. Louis’ heart melted just a little at the sight, but it was Harry’s next words that made him cave in completely. “Stay here. Please?”

Louis smiled, despite himself. “Oh, alright. If you say so.” He climbed inside the covers, looking up at the ceiling. This was awkward. They’d never shared a bed before under such innocent circumstances. Harry, though, didn’t seem to mind, snuggling into Louis’ side like he belonged there. Louis tried not to squirm, though if he was honest, it felt kind of good, like maybe Harry did belong there.

“I snore really loudly though,” Louis rambled on. “If that’s of any concern to you at all. And according to Zayn, I apparently talk in my sleep. So, you know, just don’t complain if I wake you up in the middle of the night—”

But Harry was already snoring softly, pink lips slightly parted, curls pressing into the side of his face squashed against the pillow. Louis chuckled to himself, wondering how on earth he could possibly have managed to hate someone like this. He gradually fell asleep listening to Harry’s steady heartbeat, feeling a kind of warm contentment that he hadn’t felt in a long time.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't think i've thanked you guys properly yet, so here it is. thank you guys SO much for all the incredible support. i never imagined so many people would read (and actually like) my fanfic and ugh you're all amazing. <3
> 
> also, just letting you guys know that i have lots of homework and so unfortunately, updates may take a while longer after this chapter. i'll try my best though. and if you want, you can check my update progress (which i usually update daily) here: http://stylinsunshine.tumblr.com/fanfics
> 
> anyways, enjoy :)

The sunlight spilled through the window, casting bright beams of light on the bed where Louis was lying. Instinctively, he moved his arm to block the blinding light from his face—but then he realized that something heavy was crushing his arm. He tugged at it a little more, but it wouldn’t budge. 

Louis groaned, shifting in the bed and reaching over to shake the thing—or rather, person—that was lying on top of his arm. “Harry,” he murmured. “Harry, wake up, you’re crushing my arm.”

“Mmm,” Harry protested, mumbling into the pillow. Louis sighed and pushed Harry aside with all the force he could muster, dragging his arm out from below. Though his arm was completely numb, he immediately began to miss the warmth of Harry’s skin pressed against his. Without thinking, he pressed his lips to Harry’s forehead.

 _Fuck._ Harry’s eyes opened wide, startled, and Louis drew back. _Fuck,_ what had he done? “Uh,” Louis stammered. “I—I was checking your temperature. Looks good. I think the fever’s gone.” He hopped off the bed, ducking his head to hide the blush heating up his cheeks. “Come on, you lazy bum, get up.”

“Make me,” Harry retorted, rolling over in the bed.

“I’ll make you breakfast if you get up,” Louis offered, but Harry only chuckled softly. 

“Yeah, but will it be edible?”

“Fuck off,” Louis muttered, pulling on a shirt lying around that just so happened to be Harry’s, not even bothering to put on pants, and heading into the kitchen. He glanced through the fridge, his eyes landing on two eggs and some toast. Simple enough to make, right? 

Just then, two hands reached over his shoulder and grabbed the eggs and toast out of the fridge. Louis whirled around to see Harry, balancing the eggs and toast in one hand and a frying pan in the other. “Oh, you’re up,” Louis said. “How’re you feeling?”

“Bad,” was Harry’s response as he turned the stove on and cracked the eggs in the frying pan.

“Oh,” Louis said. “Anything I can get for you? I think we’re all out of cold medicine, but I could run down and get some from Tesco’s.”

Harry cocked his head in thought. “You could give me a blowjob.”

Louis elbowed Harry in the ribs. “Ow! The fuck was that for?” Harry yelled.

“See? You’re so full of energy. Looks like your cold’s getting better already.” Louis smirked, taking the bread out from the toaster.

“Watch your step there, wouldn’t want you breaking the toaster like you did to that bowl,” Harry snapped back.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Louis rolled his eyes, tossing the toast on the plate. “Next time you’re sick, I’ll leave you there, hacking and coughing in agony. See how you like it.”

Harry stuck his tongue out at Louis as he placed the eggs on toast on two plates, sliding one across the counter to Louis and then crossing his arms. “Thanks,” Louis said, taking a bite. “Mmm. How on earth do you make eggs on toast taste so good?”

“A magician never reveals his secret,” Harry replied, grinning brightly as he himself took a bite. “Mm. I’m a great cook,” he declared.

“That you are,” Louis agreed. They ate in silence for a little while, Louis sneaking little sidelong glances at Harry. Everything was almost back to normal—almost. Except for the fact that Louis kind of wanted to grab the plate out of Harry’s hands, bend him over the counter and fuck him.

Well, except for two problems. One, Harry didn’t bottom. And two, Harry had always initiated whatever sex they had in the past. Always. So if Louis were to do that now, then that would be like holding a giant sign saying “Hey Harry, guess what! I have a massive crush on you!” And then Harry would never let Louis live it down. 

“What?” Harry asked with his mouth full, little crumbs on the corner of his mouth, and Louis wanted to kiss them away. Fuck, no, he really shouldn’t be thinking of stuff like this, or else he was going to get hard in front of Harry in only his boxers. (Not that Harry hadn’t seen it all before, but, still. This was different, sort of.)

“Nothing,” Louis shrugged, staring back down at his half-eaten eggs on toast. Because if Harry found out Louis had broken their unspoken agreement not to get attached, he’d definitely leave him. And Louis would much rather things just keep going the way they were right now, whatever that may be, than have to lose Harry once and for all.

…

Later that day, Louis and Harry were sitting together on the couch, watching _Love Actually_ —they had nothing else to do, and Harry had picked the film, much to Louis’ amusement. (Although truth be told, he himself had quite an affinity for rom-coms.) Halfway through the movie Harry had complained that he was having a headache, and leaned his head on Louis’ shoulder. Not that Louis minded at all. And then somehow, Harry had fallen asleep right then and there.

So there Louis was, trying desperately to calm the pounding of his heart as Harry’s curls tickled his chin, when suddenly— 

“We’re home!” Three familiar voices called out as the front door clicked open and slammed shut. Louis craned his neck to see Niall, Liam, and Zayn, hauling their suitcases through the door and chattering loudly. When they looked up and saw Louis and Harry cuddled together on the couch, they immediately went quiet. 

“So, Louis,” Zayn said with a wink. “You finally told him?”

“What—No I didn’t!” Louis shot Zayn a warning look that said _don’t you dare tell Liam and Niall._ Zayn shrugged. “And be quiet you twat,” he whispered, “Harry got sick while you guys were away, and he’s asleep.”

“Oh,” Liam whispered. “Is he alright?”

“Yeah,” Louis replied. “Had a fever yesterday, but looks like he’s better now.” 

“ _Love Actually?”_ Niall asked incredulously, glancing up at the screen.

“Harry picked it,” Louis was quick to explain. “Now _shh,_ get out before you wake him up.”

The others nodded obediently, dragging the suitcases away to their rooms. Louis did not miss the way Zayn and Liam’s fingers were intertwined. He chuckled to himself, glancing down at Harry, silently wishing that maybe one day, they would be like that too.

But the chances of that happening were next to zero. Louis sighed, wondering briefly how someone could be so close and yet so unattainable at the same time. But he ignored the way his chest clenched painfully, draped an arm around Harry, and continued to watch the movie.

… 

It was nighttime, and Harry lay awake in the bed, snuggled up next to Louis. They’d been sleeping in the same bed since the night he’d gotten sick, and it wasn’t like Harry minded.

Except that he did.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to distract himself from the warmth radiating from Louis’s skin right next to him. Louis’ soft breathing was the only sound that could be heard in the dead of the night, and that comforted Harry as well as agitated him.

Because he shouldn’t be like this, he told himself. Louis wasn’t—wasn’t his _boyfriend_ or anything. Louis was just Louis. Just someone he’d picked up at the club for fun when he’d gotten bored. And Louis was supposed to be disposable.

So why, now, could Harry suddenly not get rid of him?

He could feel his head starting to throb again—fuck, this cold was getting _really_ annoying. Well, except for the fact that he could use it as an excuse to get closer to Louis, cuddle up with him on the couch and watch films together. But no, he _shouldn’t_ be doing these things, he should be hitting the club and getting as much sex as he could with as many people as he could. And yet he found that he didn’t want to, not at all, not when all he wanted was right there next to him.

Harry sighed, turning away from Louis and burying his face in the pillow. He was beginning to regret this whole thing after all. _So much for “I know what I’m doing”,_ he thought to himself, because clearly he didn’t. He had no idea what he was doing half the time when he was with Louis. His eyes were so _blue_ and his smile was so _warm_ and he had such a way of making Harry let his guard down, something he never, ever did around others.

And that scared him.

…

By New Year’s Eve, Louis was beginning to get used to the constant ache in his chest whenever Harry was around, or even when he wasn’t. But he was too scared to try anything with Harry—he was sick, anyways. So he had resorted to secretly stealing one of Harry’s shirts and sometimes, occasionally, when he was bored, he would just press it against his face and breathe in the familiar, comforting smell.

And what the fuck, seriously. He was acting borderline creepy. Louis dropped the shirt, shoving it under his bed. What if Harry had passed by and seen him?

Sure enough, a chuckle could be heard from out in the hall. Louis’ heart practically stopped as he saw that the door was open. Horrified, he ran out of his room and crashed right into Liam.

“Liam?” Louis nearly shouted, both surprised and relieved that it hadn’t been Harry. “What—what are you doing here?”

“Um, this is my house?” Liam chuckled. “And I should be asking you. What are you doing with Harry’s shirt?”

Louis swallowed. “Uh. I—uh. I—I was just—”

Liam cut him off with a good-natured laugh. “Don’t worry, Louis. Zayn already told me.” Louis’ jaw dropped in horror. Zayn. He was going to _murder_ him. “But don’t worry mate, your secret’s safe with me.”

Louis heaved a sigh of relief. “Thanks.” 

“You want to talk about it, or anything?” Liam offered. 

Instinctively, Louis glanced over his shoulder. Liam answered the unspoken question for him. “He’s not here, he’s out with Niall.”

“Oh,” Louis said. “Well, I mean, I guess there’s nothing to talk about. I like him, he doesn’t feel the same way, but you know, I can live with that.”

“But how do you know he doesn’t?” 

Louis blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Liam said slowly, “I…I’ve been friends with Harry since the third grade, and he hasn’t always been like this.” Louis raised an eyebrow, and Liam went on. “Like, you know, always hooking up with random people at clubs and such.”

“I should hope not,” Louis said, and Liam chuckled. “Anyway,” he continued, “it might not seem like it, but Harry’s a really nice guy on the inside. He’s just not the type of guy who’d admit it, you know? You sort of have to figure out what he’s thinking because he hides it so well. It’s almost like he has these—these walls built around himself.”

Louis nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“But see,” Liam said, “ever since he met you, he’s started to change.”

“What?” Louis looked at Liam, startled.

“I’ve known him for a long time, I notice these things,” Liam shrugged. “I mean, think about it, how many other people has he brought home since he met you?”

Louis paused for a second. “None,” he realized, shaking his head. But that didn’t mean anything. Maybe he’d just gone to _their_ place, or a hotel, or something.

“Exactly,” Liam said, grinning.

“Wait, wait,” Louis stopped him. “But there’s that blonde girl he went out on a date with.”

“Did he do anything with her?” Liam asked.

Louis shook his head no, remembering the encounter at the coffee shop. “No, actually. It was more like—like _she was flirting with him._ ”

“There you go,” Liam nodded. “And what about that guy at the bar that he beat up? Trust me, he wouldn’t have done that for someone he didn’t care about.”

Louis stiffened. “How did you know about that?”

Liam rolled his eyes. “What, you think Harry can just show up with a giant bruise on his face and not have to answer any questions about it?”

“I guess not,” Louis mumbled. It was almost like Liam was trying to convince Louis that Harry liked him too, even though it clearly wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. 

“But he doesn’t like me,” Louis said. “And he makes sure I know it, too.” _You’re pretty and nice and a great fuck, but that’s all there is to it._ Harry himself had said it. That was all there was to their relationship—purely sexual.

Liam ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, Harry’s a compulsive liar. Like I said before, he builds these walls around himself because he doesn’t want to get attached or show that he cares. And here I thought you were good at psychology.”

“I’ll have you know I failed that class thanks to Harry,” Louis grumbled, remembering the torture it had been to deal with Harry’s snarky comments during class. But now that he thought of it—Liam was right. For someone like Harry, maybe lying really was second nature. After all, Harry had told Louis about how his parents never paid much attention to him. It made sense that he would lie and make things up to get people to notice him…

So what if it was true then? What if Harry really did reciprocate those feelings? Louis was really getting tired of pretending to be okay with whatever casual relationship they had. He wanted to know. He needed closure, at least.

“So,” Louis said slowly, “what—what should I do?” He felt really stupid for asking Liam, someone he’d only recently met, about love advice. But Liam just had this trustworthy air about him that made Louis feel like he could tell him everything. 

He smiled warmly at Louis, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Go for it, Louis. Tell him how you feel. And…I hope it works out for you two.”

Louis nodded, gathering his resolve. He was going to do this. He really was. “Thanks, Liam. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Liam replied. 

“I’m waaaiting,” Zayn’s voice called from down the hall.

Liam jumped, startled. “Sorry, I’ll be right back!” he called over his shoulder. To Louis, he said, “Sorry, I was actually just on my way to get—uh— _something._ ” He blushed beet red, walking quickly past Louis’ room and into Harry’s. “Uh, good luck!”

Louis wondered whatever could possibly be in Harry’s room that Liam needed so badly, but then gave up and headed back into his room, flopping down on the bed.

If he was going to do this, he was going to have to do it well. What he needed to make now was a plan.

…

That night, Harry sat in the living room, just checking Twitter on his phone for lack of something better to do. Apparently, #HappyNewYear was already beginning to trend worldwide, even though it was only New Year’s Eve. He scrolled through pictures of family trips and family dinners, and felt a little something tug at his heart. But he promptly ignored it, telling himself that at least he had his friends. They could throw a huge party, invite everyone from school, and get as wasted as humanly possible. That sounded like a good idea. 

Suddenly, someone snatched his phone away. He looked up quickly to see a gleefully grinning Louis prancing out the door.

“What the fuck?” he yelled, chasing after him. “Give me back my phone!”

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you make me?” Louis’ voice called from far away. Harry cursed under his breath. What did Louis want now? He ran down the hallway to the elevator, and saw Louis standing inside, grinning slyly at him just as the door closed.

“Fuck,” Harry cursed, pressing the button multiple times until the next elevator door opened. He promptly pressed the button to the lobby, hoping he’d find Louis there. When he finally got out, there was Louis, standing right in front of him.

“Oh, I’ll make you, all right,” Harry growled, smirking as he grabbed Louis’ shirt collar, pushing him up against the wall. “Give me my phone.”

He could feel Louis falter under his stare, and saw a rosy blush heating up Louis’ cheeks. He bit his lip—fuck, he _really_ wanted to kiss Louis right now. But he had more urgent matters to attend to.

“I hid it,” Louis lied, feeling the outline of Harry’s phone digging into his side, from where it was “hidden”—his jacket pocket. With much effort, he finally pried himself out of Harry’s grasp, ducking under his outstretched arm and running out the door of the building. “If you follow me, I’ll tell you where it is!” he called over his shoulder.

“You know, I could just get a new one,” Harry shouted back, running after him. “I’ve been wanting the new iPhone 5, anyways.”

“But you won’t,” Louis replied, smirking to himself as he turned a corner. So far, so good. “’Cause you like chasing after me.”

He heard Harry’s footsteps approaching behind him. “Nah, actually, I like the way your arse looks from behind.”

Louis whirled around and flipped the finger at Harry, who smirked. “Care to tell me why you led me all the way out here?” he asked.

Louis pointed up at the sign of the restaurant beside them. “There’s your answer,” Louis replied happily. It was a nice Italian restaurant, one of Louis’ favourites. “We’re going to eat dinner here.”

Harry scoffed. “ _Here?_ Please, I could afford much better,” he said haughtily. Louis punched his arm. “We’re not all as well off as you are, rich boy, deal with it.” Louis said, grabbing Harry’s wrist and pulling him into the restaurant. 

They took a seat next to the window, and after a while of bickering over what to order—mostly Harry complaining that the food here was second-rate and Louis calling him a spoiled brat—they finally settled on an agreement. The food arrived promptly, and they began to eat in silence.

Louis could feel the inevitable question hanging in the air. Is this a date? But he knew Harry wouldn’t ask. Harry didn’t want to know the answer, and Louis didn’t want to be the one to say it, either. 

After a while, Harry spoke up. “Is this supposed to be some kind of joke? Where you blackmail me into doing a bunch of stuff I don’t want to, and in the end you tell me you flushed my phone down the drain or something?”

Louis laughed. “No, you idiot. I just thought it’d be nice, you know, to get some fresh air since you were stuck at home for so long after being sick.” He didn’t tell Harry the real reason, of course. He’d save that for later.

“Well, you didn’t have to steal my phone, you weirdo. You could’ve just told me we were going out to dinner,” Harry said.

“Oh, come on, Harold, relax,” Louis said mockingly, “What’s life without a little adventure?”

“Hey!” Harry said. “That’s two times you stole my line. First it was the sexual favours thing. And now this. Think of your own comebacks for once.”

“Not all of us are blessed with the God-given gift of good pickup lines,” Louis sighed dramatically. “I guess I’m just not as witty as you are.”

“Glad you know it,” Harry grinned. Louis was almost surprised at how easy it was to talk to Harry, considering all the times they’d been at each other’s throats. It felt almost natural, slipping into this pattern of conversation.

They finished their dinner in no time, and as the waiter placed the bill on the table. Harry reached for the bill, but Louis snatched it up immediately. “Dinner’s on me,” he said, trying to sound as gentlemanly as possible. 

Louis yanked it out of Harry’s reach, smiling smugly. “Yes, but I have manners. And besides, a true gentleman always pays on the first d—”

Louis stopped, realizing what he was doing. An awkward silence filled the air. Louis swallowed nervously, noticing the way Harry’s eyes widened in surprise.

Luckily, Harry brushed it off easily and chuckled. “You call this a date? Seems more like kidnapping to me.”

“Date, kidnapping, whatever floats your boat,” Louis shrugged, allowing himself a small smile. So maybe Harry was open to the idea after all?

Harry only looked on with amusement as Louis read through the receipt and his eyes practically fell out of their sockets. This was _twice_ the amount of money he had in his wallet.

Refusing to admit it to Harry, whose turn it was to look smugly satisfied, Louis paid for it with his credit card, resolving to live off of cup noodles for all eternity, and then they left the restaurant.

“You do know that my stepdad owns a bank. I could treat you to ten dinners a day if you wanted,” Harry said as they walked through the streets again. Louis snorted. “But thanks, anyway. I supposed I have been wooed. Chivalry’s not dead after all,” he said, deadpan. Louis laughed. “And now, where to before you finally give me back my phone?”

Louis pretended to think for a while, and then snapped his fingers. “Aha! I remember where I hid it now.” He grabbed Harry by the wrist, carefully avoiding his hand, and dragged him down the street. “It’s a long ways from here though, I don’t know if your delicate, pampered little feet can walk that far. Want me to carry you?”

Harry laughed, and Louis savoured the way his eyes crinkled around the edges and god, those dimples were going to be the death of him. He was going to drop dead right now and then he’d be in the papers as _Innocent young lad killed by Harry Styles’ adorable dimples_ and then who would take care of his family when he was dead, and it would all be Harry’s fault. 

Harry was looking at him weird, and Louis realized that he’d completely missed Harry’s response, lost in his own thoughts. He cleared his throat. “Anyways,” he said, walking down the street. “To Harry’s phone and beyond!” he exclaimed loudly, pumping his fist in the air, so that everyone turned to stare at him. But he didn’t care. Just being with Harry was getting him high, drunk off the presence of the younger boy.

“Ah, Toy Story references. A man after my own heart,” Harry said, pretending to swoon, and Louis laughed. They walked through the streets of London for a while in silence. The cold winter breeze ruffled Harry’s hair, and he ran a hand through it, but it only made it messier. It reminded Louis of the way it looked after sex and he chewed on his bottom lip, trying to will away the thoughts. This wasn’t the time.

“Here we are!” Louis exclaimed, dragging Harry over to the small park they had arrived at. They walked over to a bench and sat down.

“You took me all the way here just to show me this place?” Harry raised an eyebrow. There was really nothing special about it, just an expanse of green grass and a few trees and benches. People were walking around the park, cluttered in small groups and talking amongst each other.

“No, you brainless twit,” Louis said, exasperated. He glanced down at his watch, which read 11:50. “We’re right on time for the New Year’s fireworks!”

“Well excuse me for not being able to read your mind,” Harry grumbled. “And besides, the fireworks aren’t even here. They’re like two blocks over.”

“Exactly!” Louis said. “Then we won’t have to get trampled by the huge crowd that’s gathered to see the fireworks. And the view from here is just as good.”

Harry smiled. “I guess. Well,” he said, reaching into the pocket of Louis’ coat and fishing out his phone, “I believe this is rightfully mine.”

Louis’ jaw dropped. “You knew that was there the whole time?”

Harry snorted. “Of course. There’s really no other place where you could hide it.”

“Wait,” Louis said. “You knew that the whole time, and you still walked all over town with me.”

“Got nothing better to do,” Harry shrugged. 

“Oh,” Louis said, smiling slightly. “Anyways,” he said, looking at his watch again, “we’ve only got a couple minutes until the fireworks start. And—” Louis stopped. He’d rehearsed this quietly in the comfort of his room countless times, but when it came to this, he suddenly couldn’t say it. He looked up at Harry, at his bright green eyes and his perfect smile, and faltered. What had he been thinking? He couldn’t do this—couldn’t just say the words, lay it all on the line and jeopardize whatever relationship they’d developed over these past months. 

“Yeah, go on,” Harry urged. Louis fidgeted nervously with his hands. He couldn’t say this…but he had to. He wanted Harry, wanted him so much it was driving him crazy just thinking about it. Wanted to hold Harry’s hand, wanted to kiss Harry’s lips, wanted to show him off to the world. And fuck all the nasty things they’d done to each other in the past, because that was all over. In the end, he didn’t hate Harry at all. In fact, what he felt was the complete opposite of hate.

He took a deep breath, and told Harry, “There’s something I have to tell you.”

Harry’s eyes widened, but Louis didn’t let that stop him. “Look, Harry, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I know this might sound really sudden, but I have to say it anyways. Harry,” he swallowed nervously, “I think I l—”

But before the words could escape his mouth, Harry cut him off, trailing his hand along Louis’ cheek. “Don’t,” Harry said, so quietly Louis wasn’t sure he had even heard him right. “Don’t say it.”

And then he pressed his lips against Louis’, in a warm, passionate kiss that made Louis forget just what he was going to say. Instead, he leaned in towards him and kissed Harry back just as fervently, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. The kiss was hard but soft, strong and yet gentle, a passionate kiss unlike any other they had ever shared. And as the crowd erupted into cheers and the fireworks went off into the sky, Louis could have sworn he saw sparks fly. And it wasn’t just the fireworks.


	13. Chapter 13

Looking back on that night, he should’ve known.

 _Don’t say it,_ Harry had said. He’d stopped Louis from saying the three words he had planned to, and then proceeded to make him forget by pressing his lips to Louis’.

But Louis didn’t. He was stupid and ignorant and so in love and he didn’t, didn’t see the warning sign.

…

The next morning, Louis woke up with a yawn, stretching his limbs out, and expected to feel the warmth of a body next to his.

But the space beside him was cold.

He got up quickly, glancing around his bedroom. No sign of Harry. He peered down at the ground, searched under his bed. They had barely even stayed for the fireworks—they’d taken a taxi home and stumbled over to Louis’ bedroom, a mess of tangled limbs, collapsing onto the bed together and discarding their clothes. But there was no trace of Harry’s clothes lying around.

Louis sighed quietly, ignoring the strangely ominous feeling settling in his gut. The night had gone fairly well, in Louis’ opinion, and Harry had no reason to hate Louis, right? Maybe he had just gotten up early to make breakfast. Louis quickly pulled on his clothes and headed out into the kitchen, but saw only Niall, sitting at the dinner table eating a bowl of cereal. “Hey, mate,” Niall greeted with a wave and a mouth full of cereal. Louis smiled. “Morning,” he replied, but his mind was preoccupied. “Where’s Harry?”

“Dunno,” Niall shrugged. “Got up early and went out for a walk, or something.”

“Oh. Okay,” Louis said with false cheer, pouring a bowl of cereal for himself. He wasn’t worried or anything. Maybe he just needed fresh air and would be back any minute now. After all, this was Harry’s own flat, he wouldn’t be gone for long.

They ate quietly for a while, and then Niall spoke up. “So,” he winked, “how was your date?”

Louis blushed. “What—it—it wasn’t a _date,_ ” he spluttered. “It was just—wait. Did Zayn tell you too?”

Niall shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Louis groaned. Now everyone but Harry knew about his giant moon-sized crush on Harry. “But yeah, we just went out for dinner and watched the fireworks. How about you?”

“Oh, I went to a party with a few of my mates, seeing as Zayn and Liam were too lovestruck to even leave the house,” Niall said, rolling his eyes. “Great, now I’ll always be the third wheel when I hang out with you lot.”

“Well, no,” Louis said, “I haven’t exactly told Harry how I feel yet.”

“Oh.” Niall paused. “Well, you should.”

“I know.” Louis chewed thoughtfully on his cereal. “I just—I was going to tell him, but then he stopped me and told me not to say it, and then he kissed me and I forgot everything else. Embarrassing, I know,” he laughed.

“Well, maybe he just needs time to think,” Niall suggested. “He’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”

“Yeah,” Louis agreed. “I hope so.”

But by the time the sky was dark, Harry still wasn’t back. Louis had almost begun to worry that something bad had happened. Niall had gone to another party, Zayn and Liam were eating dinner together, and so Louis was left sitting alone on the couch, flicking through the channels, missing the presence of Harry cuddled up next to him.

He couldn’t do this anymore, he decided, getting up quickly. He couldn’t just sit around and wait and worry about what Harry was thinking and why he’d left and never came back. He put on a jacket, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door.

Louis didn’t really know where he was going. One minute he was walking past the school, the other he was standing right in front of the Italian restaurant they’d eaten at yesterday. He smiled to himself, remembering just how easy everything had felt—almost like all the fights and the arguments they’d had before had just vanished into thin air. 

He peered inside through the window, but there was no sign of Harry. Of course, he thought to himself. This was probably just one of many dates to Harry. Of course it wouldn’t be important to him the way it was important to Louis. He turned on his heel and left.

He walked through the streets aimlessly, half glancing through the throngs of people for a head of curly hair, half silently rehearsing an apology or something he’d say to Harry because obviously he’d done something wrong or Harry wouldn’t have just _left._ It didn’t make sense. But then again, nothing made sense anymore. 

He groaned inwardly—this walk was doing him no good, and he may as well just head back. So he turned around and walked home, silently praying that Harry would be there and that everything would be just fine.

…

Harry was really fucking wasted.

He’d spent the entire day outside, just wandering the streets and trying to forget Louis. Trying to ignore the fact that things had plummeted way beyond Harry’s control.

He knew the three words that had been poised on the tip of Louis’ tongue. He’d heard it all before. And he knew how things like that ended—badly. That was why he couldn’t, he simply _couldn’t,_ bear to hear Louis say those words, only to be hurt in the end.

And by the time the night rolled around and thoughts of Louis did not subside, alcohol seemed like the only possible solution. He’d gone home, pleased to find that no one was there, taken out every single alcoholic drink he could find, and downed them straight from the bottle. 

It didn’t work, though. The more he drank, the more he thought about Louis. 

The thing was, Harry wanted Louis. He wanted every part of him, his stunningly blue eyes and his sculpted jawline and the curve of his back and his feathery soft hair and his warm smile, everything, everything about him had Harry falling faster than he ever had before.

But he was not afraid to fall. He was afraid of the landing. 

He was afraid that when Harry gladly handed over his heart, Louis would rip it apart; tear it to little pieces and toss them on the ground and step all over them. 

Because that was what Harry deserved, and that was what he got each and every single time.

That was why he had to end things first. 

He stood up on shaky legs, his jaw set along with his resolve. After this, he could pretend it had never happened. He could—he could forget Louis. He could go back to being Harry again. The Harry who didn’t fall in love with blue eyes and warm smiles. The Harry who was always in control.

Standing up on shaky legs, he grabbed his phone from the nightstand, ignoring the way his heart plummeted all the way down to his ankles at the thought of what he was about to do. _Slut,_ his head screamed at him. _Whore._ But he scrolled through his contact list anyway, hands shaking uncontrollably, and finally found the number he was looking for.

He typed out a quick text, sent it, then dropped the phone to the floor and waited.

…

Louis felt a strange sense of dread settle in his gut on his way home. He felt it again as he approached the familiar door that read 403.

But he ignored it both times.

He walked right up to the door, turned the key in the lock and pushed it open.

What he saw there made him stop cold in his tracks.

Harry was shirtless on the couch, straddled by a blonde-haired girl wearing nothing but a bra. His hands were sliding down her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing passionately. 

At the sound of Louis’ footsteps, Harry gasped, immediately jumped up, and pulled his shirt on. The girl got up, too, wide-eyed, glancing curiously between them as she stepped aside.

But Louis could only stand there, motionless, unable to speak or move. It was as if a sharp, vicelike grip had wrapped around his heart and was squeezing painfully. Like he was drowning and couldn’t reach the surface, couldn’t breathe. His chest was tight and his head was swimming and no, _no,_ this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

“Louis,” Harry said, cutting through the silence. “Shit, I—what—what are you doing here?”

Louis ignored him and turned to the girl. “Get out,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. She opened her mouth in protest, but he silenced her with a glare. She rolled her eyes, pulled on her clothes and left.

Louis then turned to Harry. His lips were red and his hair a mess and he was looking helplessly back at Louis, eyes impossibly wide.

“Why?” he said quietly, because it was the only thing he could manage. “Why, Harry?”

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry said, running a hand over his face, a tone of desperation and utter bewilderment in his voice. “I—I didn’t—I’m—”

“How could I have been so stupid?” Louis said incredulously. “How could I have fallen for this? I should’ve known, right from the start.”

“But—I’m—I’m sorry,” Harry spluttered, but it only served to fuel Louis’ anger. “I didn’t mean to, I just—I wasn’t thinking—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” Louis said, not even bothering to hide the quaver in his voice. “You planned all of this, didn’t you? From when you saw me at that party and picked me as your target. When you decided to fuck me and then leave. But you didn’t plan for me to stick around so long, did you?”

And even as he was saying all this he paused to look at Harry, waiting expectantly. A part of him was still in denial, wishing that Harry would reach out and grab Louis, tell him to stop, tell him _“No, Louis, that’s not true, I love you, please stay”_ or just do _something_ to let him know that he still cared, because the sad truth was that Louis would do _anything_ for him.

But Harry only stood there, his expression blank.

Louis was almost shouting now, and Harry was shrinking away from him with every word. “Was that what I was to you?” he yelled. “Just a fucking game? Something to keep you entertained when you were bored? Is that your idea of fun?”

At that moment, something changed significantly inside of Harry. He stepped right in front of Louis’ face, jaw clenched tight, eyes burning. “Yeah,” he spat. “That’s exactly what you were. I’m surprised it took you long enough to figure that out.”

Louis physically flinched, taking a step back. This couldn’t be. This wasn’t the Harry he knew—this was someone else entirely, voice dripping with venom, eyes ablaze with anger.

Or maybe, he had not known the real Harry after all.

“No,” Louis said, now trying to convince himself more than Harry. “You fucking liar. I was more than that, and you know it!”

Harry looked at him with that same unreadable expression, cold as ice. “Did I not make myself clear?” he said, voice dangerously low. “You were nothing to me,” he said, enunciating every word clearly, carving it into the back of Louis’ mind. “You were nothing but a good fuck, and now, I found someone new. Someone better.”

Harry may as well have stabbed Louis in the chest with a knife, because he could feel a pain in his chest, sharp and visceral unlike anything he’d ever felt before. 

“Oh, and you think you’re so much better?” he nearly shouted. “You think you’re so great, toying with my feelings. Acting like you cared. You think just because you’ve got the looks and the money, that everyone wants to fuck you so badly?” 

His voice was cracking and hot tears were prickling at the back of his eyes, but he couldn’t stop. He needed to yell, to hear his own voice to stop the painful throbbing of his heart. He took another step towards Harry, so close that he could almost feel Harry’s breath on his cheeks. 

“Well let me tell you something, Styles. You’re nothing but a slut.”

Harry visibly flinched, mouth hanging open as if he’d been slapped in the face, and seeing the effect of his words on Harry gave Louis a bitter sense of self-satisfaction. “A fucking slut,” Louis repeated, just so he could hear the word again. 

And then, suddenly, as he looked at Harry’s watering eyes and trembling lower lip, all his anger suddenly dissipated out of him, leaving nothing but a blank, empty sadness.

Because, nothing Louis said all this time had affected Harry like this had. A simple nickname, a bruise to Harry’s ego, had him on the verge of tears. In the end, all Harry cared about was himself.

“It was all my fault,” Louis whispered. “For caring about you. For believing, even for one short moment, that you—that you cared about me too. For thinking that maybe, just maybe—you were different.”

He stumbled backward, blinking back the tears that were blurring his vision. 

“I was wrong.”

And that was all he could bear to say before he ran straight out the door without looking back, slamming it shut behind him. The sound reverberated through his ears as he stumbled blindly down the stairs, turning a corner and into the lobby bathroom. There, he ran into the first stall he saw, clicked the lock shut, and finally let the tears he’d been holding back fall, his body wracking with every sob.

…

Harry stood there, eyes stinging with hot tears, letting it all sink in.

_What the hell had he just done?_

He’d just let Louis, the boy of his dreams, walk straight out the door. He’d taken Louis’ heart and ripped it apart.

And the worst part was, he had acted as if he didn’t care, put up yet another unbreakable wall between them. He hadn’t even intended to—it was merely a measure of self-defense, something he’d become unwillingly accustomed to doing. But the truth was, every fucking word that left his mouth—every hurt, betrayed look Louis gave him—pierced through his heart like a dagger.

He sunk down onto the floor, leaning against the wall. His head was spinning, throbbing in pain, and it felt like it was going to explode. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might stop any minute.

 _You’re nothing but a slut,_ Louis’ voice echoed in his head. The words had hit him like a slap in the face, a nasty dose of reality. 

_You’re just a dirty fucking slut._

Harry closed his eyes tightly, hot red burning beneath his eyelids. That voice—that wasn’t Louis anymore. It was the voice of the person he’d tried so hard to forget.

Suddenly, it all came rushing back to him. That day three years ago, the distant memory of which he couldn’t suppress any longer. Another boy, another girl in his bed. Harry, shouting, screaming, crying. Walking straight out the door and never turning back.

It was true, after all. He was nothing but a slut, a good-for-nothing whore. He’d gotten what he deserved. Every stab of agonizing pain in his heart. He deserved it all, he’d brought it upon himself, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Burying his face in his hands, he let out a choked sob, trembling uncontrollably as the tears streamed down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please don't hate me ;____;


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I posted this on my tumblr but forgot to post it here... what an idiot. u_u Anyway, for those who are wondering, this will be the second to last chapter of the series. Enjoy!

Louis couldn’t stop the tears from falling down his face. He cried and cried, tears of anger and shame and regret. How could he have ever been so _stupid,_ to have expected Harry to love him back?

He cried until he didn’t know why he was crying anymore, until there were no tears left in his eyes. Only then did he finally stop and wipe his eyes with the corner of his sleeve.

He leaned against the wall of the bathroom stall, taking a deep breath to clear his thoughts, but it was no use. Every sentence and every word Harry had said was still burned in the back of his mind.

_“You were nothing to me.”_

_“You were nothing but a good fuck, and now, I found someone new. Someone better.”_

It was the truth, after all. Harry didn’t love him. Harry didn’t love _anyone._ He’d used Louis and then tossed him aside when he was done, like all the others before him.

Louis didn’t know why it hurt him so much. Harry had only confirmed what Louis had known from the very start.

And yet, there suddenly was a gaping hole in Louis’ chest where his heart should be.

He deserved it, he told himself. It was his own mistake, for being so naïve as to think that maybe there was something more between them, that maybe Harry was so much more than he let on.

He should have known it would end this way.

Louis sighed, dropping his arms down by his sides. It was too late now. It was over. And he really didn’t want to think about this anymore. He just wanted to go home and curl up in his bed and not have to face the world.

And that was when he remembered—he’d left all his things back at Harry’s place. And he sure as hell didn’t want to go back there ever again.

Louis groaned, pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing before he could even think things through.

After a minute or so, Zayn finally picked up. “Hey, what’s up?”

For a moment, Louis thought of hanging up; it struck him, how utterly childish he was being. The least he could do was go back, pack up his things and at least thank Liam and Niall for letting him stay.

But the very thought of seeing Harry with that girl, that girl he would probably forget the name of the very next day when she walked out the door, made Louis sick to his stomach.

So he took a deep breath. “Zayn…I need you to do me a favour.”

“What is it, Lou? Are you alright?” Zayn must’ve sensed that something was wrong, because he suddenly sounded worried.

“I’m fine,” Louis lied, not wanting to get into this right now. Zayn would find out sooner or later, anyways. As much as Louis wanted not to tell Zayn about the situation, he and Zayn simply didn’t keep secrets from each other.

Zayn understood. “Alright, then. What is it?”

“Where are you right now?”

Zayn paused for a moment. “Out with Liam. Why?”

“I need you to go back to Harry’s place and pack up my things for me. I’m, uh, moving out.”

“Oh.” Louis could practically sense the questions ready to be asked on the tip of Zayn’s tongue. But the one he chose to ask was, “Do you…do you need me to go with you?”

Louis shook his head. “I’m fine, Zayn. I just—I think I need to be alone right now,” he lied. Louis wasn’t an idiot; he knew Zayn would much rather be with Liam. Just because things with Harry hadn’t worked out, it didn’t mean that Zayn and Liam’s relationship had to suffer from it. 

For a long time, there was nothing but silence. Then: “I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” was all Louis could say in reply. 

…

Harry was so caught up in crying, hugging his knees and burying his face in his arms, that he didn’t notice the front door open.

“Harry?” Liam’s voice called out. “Harry.” Footsteps approached him, stopping suddenly.

“Harry, are you crying?”

But Harry’s throat was all closed up and he couldn’t answer. He couldn’t do anything but rock back and forth as the tears poured down his face.

Liam reached out, gently brushing Harry’s fringe out from his eyes and tilting his head up. Harry heard him gasp, and could barely make out Liam’s concerned expression through his tears.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” Liam asked, an urgent tone in his voice, and Harry can’t hold back anymore.

“I fucked up, Liam,” he cried, burying his face into the fabric of Liam’s shirt as the older boy slowly wrapped his arms around him. “Louis’ gone and it’s all my fault.”

“Shh, Harry, it’s okay,” Liam soothed, stroking his hair. “Tell me what happened.”

Harry sniffled, too heartbroken to feel embarrassed at the miserable state he was in. “I—I tried to—” Harry paused, inhaling shakily. “I tried to sleep with someone else so that I would forget about Louis but then he walked in and he saw and fuck, Liam, it’s all my fault.”

“You—you what?” Liam asked, shocked. And great, now Liam was going to hate him too. But Harry couldn’t stop, now that he’d finally got the words out.

“And—and then he asked me why and I told him—I told him he didn’t mean anything to me and I just used him and god, I don’t know what I was saying, it all just came out of my mouth and he called me a—” Harry’s hands twisted in the fabric of Liam’s shirt—“a slut and then he walked out and—it’s all my fault,” he whispered brokenly. “It’s all my fault and he didn’t deserve anything, he doesn’t deserve me.”

Slowly, Liam’s hand pressed against Harry’s back, rubbing small circles, and Harry heaved a sigh of relief, because Liam was there, Liam wasn’t going to storm out, because Liam knew. Liam was the only one who knew why Harry acted this way and even though Liam had never approved of it, he at least understood.

“Harry,” Liam said softly, “is this about what I think it is?”

Harry nodded, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

“Harry, I—you’ve got to stop doing this to other people,” Liam said. “And you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself. That was all in the past, but not everyone is like he is.”

Harry wants to shake his head, to tell Liam that’s not it. A part of him knew Louis would never hurt him like that—but another part of him was still too shaken up, too afraid to put his trust in anyone else but himself. 

“I know,” Harry murmured. “But—I just get so _scared,_ you know? I mean, when I first saw Louis, I—I never imagined I’d be feeling things like this,” he admitted. “I thought I’d sworn off all feelings in general after _that_ time.”

Liam nodded, rubbing Harry’s back again. “But you can’t,” Liam continued. “You can’t just decide not to fall in love ever again because of something that happened once. And I know what happened with your parents wasn’t easy for you, either, but that’s all in the past, Harry. You can’t keep mixing up the past with the present.”

Harry unclenched his fists from Liam’s shirt, letting his hands fall to his sides. “I know,” he mumbled into Liam’s shirt. “I know.”

Liam opened his mouth again, and Harry could almost feel the words on the tip of his tongue, the lecture that was about to follow.

But for once, Liam shut his mouth, and resumed patting Harry’s back, and Harry was grateful for it because he really didn’t want to talk about this anymore, he’d been through enough in a day already. They sat together in the silence for a while, and then Harry heard footsteps. He peered over Liam’s shoulder to see that Zayn had emerged from Louis’ room, suitcase in hand.

“Be careful,” Liam whispered to Zayn, at which Zayn chuckled. 

“It’s just a three-minute walk. Relax, Li.” 

And maybe it was Liam’s concern, or the way the nickname had casually slipped from Zayn’s mouth, but it suddenly seemed that Liam and Zayn were the embodiment of what Harry and Louis could never be.

And that really hurt.

Neither of the three said a word as Harry got up and walked to his room, closing the door softly behind him. 

It was a long, long time before he finally fell asleep.

…

 

The hotel room was bathed in darkness, the walls a dull and gloomy grey. Louis set his suitcases down and sat on the edge of the bed, which dipped and creaked just a little. It was a double bed, because it was the only room available and because it seemed that the entire universe had turned against him. And as he subconsciously reached his fingers over to the empty space next to him, Louis couldn’t recall the last time he’d felt so utterly _lonely._

It seemed to him, now, that Harry had always been around, whether Louis wanted him to or not. And ironically enough, even as Louis fought so hard against the very idea of it, it seemed that Harry had become a constant presence in his life.

In the beginning, it had been a mere nuisance—Harry Styles, the rich playboy, seeks his next target—Louis, the unwilling candidate. But somewhere along the line, it had progressed into something more. Harry had become, for a reason Louis still could not fathom, ridiculously addicted to the idea of chasing Louis. Louis, of course, had still not realized it then, but he had become addicted to the idea of being chased. 

It was kind of funny when he thought about it. He couldn’t count how many times in the past he’d wished for Harry to just leave him alone. But now that Harry had left for good, it was like he’d taken a piece of Louis with him that he’d never get back.

…

The first thing Harry felt when he woke up was the worst headache he’d ever had. It was so excruciatingly painful that he had to clutch at his head to keep it from exploding.

The second thing he felt, however, was a thousand times more painful. 

The realization that he would never see Louis again.

Never again would Harry hear his light, tinkling laugh. Never again would Harry kiss his lips, the burning passion lighting him up from the inside out. Never again would Harry feel the warmth of Louis’ skin pressed to his. 

Just that thought was enough to shatter what was left of his heart into a million pieces. 

_It was the right thing to do,_ he told himself. Now that Louis knew just how fucked up he really was, he had left. He had moved on, moved out.

And he’d left Harry behind, lying brokenly in the bed that suddenly felt so empty without Louis.

Well, Harry thought, rolling out of bed, it had been his own decision. And like his decision to chase after Louis in the first place, it was one he’d have to live with. 

After several failed efforts, he managed to stand up on his feet, although rather shakily. His head was still pounding and he felt like he was about to be sick. But he put on some clothes and dragged himself into the kitchen.

No one else was there. He opened the cupboard, taking out some painkillers. He swallowed the pills dry and leaned back against the counter, feeling—not better, but a little bit less like he was going to drop dead any minute.

Until the memories flooded through his mind again, of when he had been sick and Louis had been the one to take care of him. 

And that was a kind of pain the pills just couldn’t kill.

He trudged over to the couch, remembering the times when they’d been too angry and too impatient to make the short journey to Harry’s bedroom. He sat down, remembering how it felt to lean his head on Louis’ shoulder, a movie playing in the background that Harry paid no attention to.

At some point in time, Liam sat down next to him, tentatively patting his back. At some point in time, Zayn grumbled something about getting what he deserved and Liam shot him a glare that shut him up. At some point in time, Niall offered him a plate of food that should’ve smelled delicious but didn’t. And then at some point in time, they all just gave up and left him alone.

But Harry didn’t really care. He didn’t care about anything, anymore. He felt, somehow, strangely detached from the events around him. Like he’d been a moon and Louis had been his planet, and now that he was gone, everything was out of orbit.

…

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Louis muttered to himself. He was a jerk. A terrible human being.

He’d left the hotel after having spent all his money on it, and now he was left with nowhere to stay and twenty pounds in his pocket. All of his friends happened to live with the one boy he was trying to forget, except—

Wait, except—

Eleanor.

He stopped in his tracks. He sure had some nerve to call her a friend after he took her out on a date and then completely forgot about her.

He hesitated for a long time before he rang the doorbell to her dorm room.

A few seconds later she opened it, wearing sweats, her hair in a messy bun. 

“Louis?” she said, her jaw dropped, and Louis was almost offended, but then again, if he were Eleanor, he’d be shocked to see himself at her front door at twelve p.m., clutching a suitcase in one hand. 

“Uh, hi.” He smiled sheepishly. “I’m really sorry to bother you, but I kind of have a huge favour to ask?” God, he sounded pathetic.

“Um, sure,” Eleanor shrugged. “What is it?”

“Could I maybe stay the night here?”

Her eyes widened almost comically as she blinked at him. Louis wanted to crawl into a hole and die there.

“I should probably explain, uh,” he swallowed nervously, “I—let’s just say I got kicked out of my dorm room—” which was not entirely a lie, he told himself—“and I only have about twenty pounds with me right now and you’re kind of my only hope. Please?”

She looked thoughtful for a second, then shrugged and went inside. “Sure, come on in. You can take the sofa for the night.”

Instantly Louis heaved a sigh of relief. “God, thank you so much.” He followed her inside and propped his suitcase up against the sofa.

A wave of guilt suddenly washed over him, and he felt the need to apologize. She’d liked him, and he’d led her on, then left, and never spoken to her since. Almost like what Harry had done to him. 

“Hey, uh, Eleanor?”

He got up and followed her into the kitchen.

“What?” She turned around and looked at him, a mix of curious and annoyed.

“I’m sorry I never, you know, called back after that date.” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “It was really fun and I enjoyed it, but—”

“But you’re not into me,” she said knowingly.

“I—” Louis stopped. It had been pretty obvious after all, hadn’t it? “I’m really sorry. You’re a great person, El, and you deserve better.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize. It’s fine.” Eleanor smiled. “I could tell, anyways. You were just using me to make Harry jealous.”

Louis’ jaw dropped, then. “I—” He looked at Eleanor, bewildered, ignoring the slight stutter his heart still gave at the mention of Harry’s name. “How did you know?”

Eleanor laughed. “The way you were looking at him in the library? Please, it was so obvious. Speaking of that, you’re like, dating him now, right?”

Louis chuckled bitterly. “No,” he muttered. “Well, it’s kind of a long story. I used to think we were dating, but then he sort of found someone else, and now…yeah.” He shrugged. “That is possibly the worst explanation I’ve ever given to anyone, ever.”

Eleanor nodded sympathetically. “I’m sorry about that.”

“No, no, it’s totally fine.” Of course, it wasn’t. “But anyways, it’s getting pretty late, and you probably want to sleep or something, so um, I won’t keep you from doing that.” He smiled with fake cheer and headed over to the sofa. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime, Louis. Good night,” Eleanor called over her shoulder. 

“Night,” he called back. But he lay awake for another two hours, thinking of another couch in another dorm and half-heartedly wishing that another boy was missing him too. Thinking of how nice Eleanor was and how much easier things could be if he could just fucking forget about this other boy who definitely didn’t miss him at all, and move on.

Who was he kidding?

…

The days passed by, one after another, the exact same way. Harry wasn’t even aware of what was happening, until one day, when all the boys sat him down at the dinner table. It was almost like when his parents used to sit him down to discuss his grades when he was little, before they gave up and stopped caring. The situation would’ve been funny, had they all not looked so seriously concerned about Harry.

“It’s been three days,” Liam said matter-of-factly. 

“You’ve hardly eaten anything,” Niall exclaimed.

“And you haven’t fucked anyone,” Zayn said with mock surprise. Liam elbowed him in the ribs. Zayn winced, and then backpedaled quickly. “What I mean is, uh, you’re not acting like yourself.”

Harry stared blankly at each of them. “What is this, an intervention or something?” he said finally.

“Yes!” Zayn snapped his fingers. “Exactly that. Stop moping over what happened between you and Louis, which for the record, was entirely your fault—sorry, Liam!—and move the fuck on already.”

When Harry didn’t respond, Liam tried a different approach. “Look, Harry, clearly you’re not going to forget about Louis anytime soon. So why don’t you go see him, then?”

At this, Harry raised an eyebrow. “Really, Liam? Really? You think he’ll want to see me after what I did to him?”

“Of course not,” Zayn muttered. Liam chose to ignore him.

“That’s exactly why you have to go. Get some closure, both for your sake and for his. You may think you’ve got it bad right now—well, think about how he feels. You’ve got to apologize to him in person.”

“No,” Harry protested. “I’m not going to. That defeats the entire purpose!”

“What’s the purpose?” Niall asked, utterly confused.

“The purpose, Niall, is to get Louis to leave me and find someone better,” Harry said slowly, as if explaining a math problem to a child. 

Then suddenly, Niall’s face lit up in understanding.

“So you mean, you didn’t do it because you got bored with him or anything. You didn’t even do it because you liked that girl.”

“What girl?” Harry asked, and then—“Oh, her. Right.” She’d been the last thing on his mind. 

“See? You just proved my point exactly!” Niall blurted out. “You’re still in love with Louis!”

Harry nearly choked on his own spit. “What—” he stammered, “I didn’t say that!”

Everyone at the table suddenly laughed. “What?” Harry said, annoyed.

“Oh come off it, Harry, you’re too obvious,” Zayn replied.

“If you still love him, then just tell him!” Liam said.

“It’s not that easy,” Harry grumbled, staring down at the ground. “I—I _can’t_ love him.”

Liam sighed. “Look, Harry, Louis isn’t Mark. There’s a distinction here. You’ve got to remember that not everyone you fall in love with is going to cheat your feelings like he did.”

Harry saw the look of confusion on Zayn’s and Niall’s faces, but he wasn’t about to recount the story of how his first and only boyfriend had screwed him over. Not now, anyway. “Mark’s got nothing to do with it,” he lied. 

Of course, Liam saw right through it. “It’s got _everything_ to do with it,” Liam said. “Everything that happened with your parents and with Mark—that’s why you don’t let yourself fall in love. But you can’t choose whether or not you love someone,” Liam said softly, casting a quick glance at Zayn, who smiled back. “You just do.”

And Harry had nothing to say to that.

Yes, he _did_ love Louis. However painful and scary it was to admit it, he had to, because he was tired of lying to everyone, tired of lying to himself.

“So what if I do?” Harry shrugged. “He doesn’t need me. I’m not good for him anyways. He’s probably doing just fine without me.”

Zayn snorted. “Of course he’s not, you idiot. I’ve been on the phone with him and trust me, he might act like he’s fine, but he’s completely miserable.”

A tiny little spark of hope lit up inside of Harry at the thought that maybe Louis missed him half as much as Harry missed Louis. But he quickly shook his head. “No, I’m not. I was a complete jerk. The least I could do is leave him alone. Let him have someone better.”

“No, Harry,” Liam sighed, frustrated, “Don’t you get it? The least you could do is apologize to him so you don’t leave a Mark-sized scar on his heart.”

It finally hit him that Liam was right. True, Harry couldn’t undo the damage he’d done, and he had no intention of doing so. But Louis deserved to be happy, with someone other than Harry. And he could never do that if he never forgot what Harry had done to him. 

It was like the time Harry got beat up at the bar, he decided. It hurt, a hell of a lot, but the fact that Louis was there, taking care of him, gently pressing a band-aid to his face—well, that made it a little bit better.

Harry wanted to make Louis feel better. He deserved it. And even though he wasn’t sure if him being there, with Louis, would make things better or worse, he could at least try. He owed Louis that much.

And besides, Harry couldn’t deny that a little selfish part inside him did want to see Louis one last time. Just to see those bright blue eyes, that gentle smile, one last time.

He stood up quickly. “Yeah, I—I get it now,” he said, more to himself than to the three pairs of eyes following him from the dinner table to the door. “I have to do this.”

All at once, Niall, Liam, and Zayn heaved a sigh of relief.

“Oh, and Harry?” Zayn called just as Harry yanked the door open. 

“Yeah?” He turned around, surprised to find that there was no hint of resentment in Zayn’s eyes.

“Good luck,” Zayn said.

Harry smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

And then he was out of there, bolting through the hallway and down the stairs, with one thing on his mind: Louis.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited final chapter! Yes, this will be the last chapter of IHLY. When I first started writing this i had no idea it would receive such a response and I'm constantly shocked at how many people read and liked my fic. Whether you've been here since the beginning or just discovered this fic, thank you so so much. I love every single one of you and I really appreciate all the time you guys take to leave me comments and messages, you kept me motivated to do my best and I wish I could hug all of you. But unfortunately I cannot, so have this chapter instead. <3 Enjoy!

Louis had decided to go out for a walk, as he really needed fresh air. Strolling through the streets, he had been glancing absentmindedly around, looking for anything to distract him from the matter at hand when he saw the restaurant.

He stopped in front of the small Italian restaurant, allowing himself a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

Before he knew it, Louis had begun to retrace the path they took on their first and only date. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, he told himself.

He continued down the street, remembering the way he and Harry had fallen into their effortless banter. How easy had things been back then, in comparison to how they were now. It was as if Louis could still feel the ghost of Harry’s presence standing next to him, a fading memory of a dimpled smile and sparkling eyes.

Louis blinked quickly, and then the ghost of Harry was gone and he was left alone. 

He approached the park slowly, remembering the fireworks that had lit up the velvety night sky and the sparks that had flown. But now he knew that he’d only been imagining them. A gust of wind hit him square in the face, a cold and bitter reminder that Harry did not love Louis. Harry never had. And it was about time he came to terms with this fact.

He wrapped his arms around himself and was just about to turn to leave when a low, husky voice called out behind him.

“Louis?”

Louis froze in his tracks as a chill that definitely wasn’t related to the wind passed through his body. His throat went dry and his feet were stuck to the ground beneath him. No—it wasn’t Harry. It couldn’t be Harry. Louis was definitely hallucinating.

“Louis!” the voice called again. He could hear the footsteps behind him, speeding up now.

He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists.

_Don’t turn around._

And he wouldn’t have turned—of course he wouldn’t have turned, if not for the hand that tapped gently on his shoulder.

He whirled around, flinching involuntarily. Harry withdrew his hand quickly. “Sorry,” he muttered, carefully avoiding Louis’ gaze. Up close, Louis could see how pale Harry’s face was, the way his curls had lost their usual perkiness, the dark circles under his eyes. But maybe he was imagining it. Maybe a selfish part of him just wanted Harry to look as emotionally drained as Louis felt.

For a moment he almost reached out to touch Harry like he would have done before this all happened, but then he took a step back. He didn’t know what he expected to see or to feel when he saw Harry again, but it wasn’t this. Anger, maybe. Sadness, perhaps. Not this—this small, tired leap of his heart, a futile reminder of what he had, no, _still_ felt for Harry. 

He forced himself to shut down that urge, looking straight at Harry with a steely expression in his eyes. “What do you want?” he said monotonously.

Harry looked up but didn’t meet his eyes, instead staring at a spot just beyond his face. Almost as if he was too scared to look Louis in the eye. Louis suppressed a smirk at this small triumph, but then reminded himself that he no longer cared.

“I—” Harry stammered. “I just wanted to say—I’m sorry.”

Louis crossed his arms. “That’s all?”

Harry looked down, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Look, I understand that you don’t want to talk to me, but I—”

Louis cut him off. “If that’s all you’re going to say, then just save your breath and go.”

Harry looked straight at him then, desperation evident in his wide eyes. “But—”

“I said, save it.” Louis waved him off and was about to turn away, when—

“Please.”

It was a whisper, almost inaudible, but something about the utter desperation of Harry’s voice tugged at Louis’ heartstrings. Because Harry always had a way of getting what he wanted from Louis. And this time, Louis supposed, was no different.

“Five minutes,” Harry begged. “It’ll only take five minutes of your time. You hate me already, so what have you got to lose?”

They looked at each other for a long time, blue eyes meeting green.

“Fine,” Louis found himself saying. As much as he denied it, he did want an explanation, and he could never move on without one. He glanced briskly down at his watch, trying to calm the jittery feeling inside him. “Starting now.”

“I—” Harry looked around nervously, as if he didn’t know where to start, or how to make Louis understand what he’d done. “I was seven when my parents divorced.”

Louis rolled his eyes, because what the hell did this have to do with anything? 

Harry licked his lips nervously. “I know you probably don’t care, but—at the time it was a big deal for me. Growing up, I’d never exactly been showered with affection. It was more of the opposite, I guess. But at the very least, my parents were always there. Until suddenly they weren’t.”

The Louis three months ago might have told Harry to suck it up, that other people’s parents had divorced too and he ought not to sound so upset, so heartbroken about it. But he didn’t. Because Harry never, _ever_ told Louis anything about his past life or his family, and somehow he knew that this was important. So instead, he said, “Four minutes.”

“They didn’t try to fight for me,” Harry admitted, staring down at Louis’ sneakers. “Neither of them wanted custody.”

Louis’ heart sank at this—seven-year-old Harry, tossed around by his parents like nothing but a burden.

“In the end they gave my mum custody and my sister Gemma and I moved in with her and my rich new stepdad. I learned later on that they’d been sleeping together since before the divorce, and my dad had caught them in the act.”

Louis didn’t know what to say, so he just looked blankly down at his watch. “Two minutes,” he muttered.

Harry sighed. “Well, if I thought things would get better after that, I was dead wrong. He hated my guts and always acted like I wasn’t there. Only reason he kept me around was I was his only son and he wanted someone to run the bank after he died. Of course,” Harry chuckled bitterly, “I did everything I could to fuel his hatred. I stayed out late at night, hung out with the wrong crowds, failed my classes. He told me I was an idiot, a complete failure. My mum threatened to kick me out, but I didn’t care. At least,” he shrugged, “at least they were noticing me.”

It began to make sense, now, why Harry was telling him this. His parents hadn’t tried to fight for his sake, and let everything fall apart. If that was true, then maybe that was why Harry always tried to pick fights with Louis—he wanted to know that Louis cared. And maybe the feeling of being constantly overlooked or berated by his parents had led him to believe that acting out was the only way he’d ever get the attention he craved.

But still, that was no excuse to do the shitty things he’d done, was it?

“Eventually Gemma moved out—I mean, who could blame her? I know I would have done the same.” He paused, and Louis thought for a moment how selfish she was, for not having taken Harry with her. “So then I was in high school, and I was always the rich kid, right, because of my stepdad. But now I was also this mean, snobby rich kid that no one liked. Even Liam and Niall hated me back then. The only—” Harry’s eyes suddenly seemed distant, cold almost. “The only person who liked me, who bothered to talk to me, was this guy named Mark. He was like my dream boy, good-looking and charming and all. He was—” his voice cracked, “the first person I ever loved.”

“He asked me out after only, I don’t know, a week. He was nice, too—bought me flowers, held my hand in public. Told me he loved me—” and that tiny, tiny hint of hope in Harry’s voice, that utter happiness Mark must have made him feel, Louis could only imagine how it must have felt.

“At least, that’s what I thought,” Harry said, and Louis definitely hadn’t misheard the quiver in Harry’s voice.

“He—he convinced me to—” Harry took a deep breath, and went on, avoiding Louis’ gaze. “To have sex with him, and then two days later I caught him in bed with someone else.”

“Shit,” Louis said, because he honestly didn’t know what else to say.

“So I swore—I swore I’d never fall in love again. And I never did. I slept around, got drunk, flirted with everything that walked on two legs, night after night…trying to forget. I—” Harry was talking so fast now, his words all bunched up together, and still he was staring at the ground, as if afraid to meet Louis’ eyes. Afraid what he would see there. “I became the heartbreaker so that I’d never get my heart broken again. After a while, it just fell into routine. I couldn’t imagine doing anything but.

“Until I met you, Louis,” Harry said, finally looking him in the eye, his voice almost a whisper. “You changed _everything_.”

“Me?” Louis said incredulously. “I didn’t change anything, Harry,” he replied. “You did the same thing to me that you did to everyone else.”

He hadn’t tried to sound harsh—it was more like disappointment—but Harry visibly faltered.

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Louis corrected. “I mean…why me? I’m…I’m just another person. I’m nothing special.”

“But you were,” Harry said. “I mean at first, you were just a challenge, you know? ‘Cause you weren’t like anyone else, you weren’t easy. God, I feel so fucking disgusted just saying this, but I thought it’d be fun to just fuck you and leave.”

Louis bit down on his lip, trying to hold back. He needed to hear what Harry thought of him, as painful as it was.

“I never planned for anything else to happen, but after that night I just couldn’t forget you. Something about you just—“ Harry gestured vaguely with his hands, “I don’t know, something about you just stuck. I wanted more. And then I saw the tutoring ad, and I took the chance, thinking I’d have more fun with you, and then I got what I wanted and you moved in and…and I still wasn’t satisfied.

“I didn’t get it,” Harry shrugged. “It never happened to me before, and I thought I’d sworn off all genuine feelings, so I just ignored it, and then it was too late when I finally realized that—that—” his voice cracked and the next words he uttered were what changed everything for Louis.

“That I was in love with you.”

Louis’ breath caught in his throat, and he opened his mouth but was unable to speak. All this time, he thought he’d been nothing to Harry, nothing but a joke, a game, a mistake. 

And here Harry was, his green eyes so wide and sincere for the first time since they’d met, confessing the truth.

That he felt the same way Louis did.

“It scared me,” Harry whispered. “It scared me so _fucking much_ , I mean hadn’t I learned my lesson already? I knew it wasn’t supposed to happen and that no one could ever love me and that sooner or later you were going to leave me and I still ended up falling for you.”

He said it so quickly that Louis almost didn’t catch it, except that he did. _No one could ever love me._ Hearing that this was truly what Harry thought of himself made his heart clench and he blinked furiously to hold back the tears.

“So I tried to forget you,” Harry said, his voice shaking now, his words jumbled up together, “and I don’t know what got into me that night I was drunk and I wasn’t thinking and I just went and brought her home and I was thinking of you the whole time because you were the one I really wanted and we didn’t do anything though because you walked in and I just knew that this was what I deserved and so I played along with what you said I lied and I acted like I didn’t care about you and fuck, I’m so sorry, the things I said to you…” Harry trailed off, covering his face with his hands and Louis realized that he had never seen Harry cry, ever. 

Louis reached out to stroke Harry’s face, because after all of this, after the mess they’d been through, after knowing Harry’s true feelings…nothing had changed in the end. He loved Harry so much, even more if that was possible, and he just wanted to hold Harry and keep him safe because it felt like a knife in the chest to see Harry like this.

But Harry took a step back, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He took a shaky breath and forced a sheepish smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m saying this,” he said, “I just wanted to explain everything to you because it wasn’t fair of me to do all this without you knowing and I got carried away I guess, okay, I’m sorry, my five minutes are up and I should get going—”

“Harry,” Louis said.

“Just—just forget about this, okay,” Harry continued, much too casually, “It was dumb and I don’t expect you to forgive me and—”

“Harry,” Louis repeated, louder this time.

“I know this is going nowhere and it’s not like you’d feel the same anyway because you hate me, and even if you didn’t I don’t even deserve you, so just leave me be, I’m gonna go now—”

“Harry,” Louis pleaded, “Listen to me.”

Harry fell silent, looking so small and vulnerable and scared that Louis had to fight hard not to cry.

“Your five minutes are up, so now let me talk, okay?”

He nodded. Louis gulped, not knowing how to say this, but decided to just give it a shot anyway.

“I don’t hate you, Harry. I never did.” As he said it out loud, he finally realized the truth. “What I really hated was—that night at the party, when we—I hated the fact that you’d won. I hated that I’d let you win at your own game, I was so angry with myself. And then afterwards, you just kept coming back and no matter how hard I tried to forget about you, you just wouldn’t leave me alone. I just pretended like it was because I hated you when really I just hated the fact that you’d gotten to me. The way you knew you would.

“And then it kept happening. I’d fight back but it’d always happen. We’d fuck and I’d be so ashamed of myself for doing it again, because I knew—” Louis shook his head and corrected himself, “—No, I thought it meant nothing to you and that I was the only one who felt the things I felt. And now that I think of it, it was so unfair of me to just blame you for everything. It wasn’t just you. I did some really bad things. I assumed that you had an easy life just ‘cause you had the money and the looks and that was really shitty of me because I had no idea what you went through until just now. And I…” Louis bit his lip, as if trying to take the words back that he knew he couldn’t. “I called you a slut, and I’m really sorry. It’s the furthest thing from the truth. I just said and did all of these stupid things without even thinking them through, and I thought it was because I hated you—”

And there it was, he was finally going to say it.

“But I just hated the fact that I was in love with you.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he let out a soft gasp.

“Don’t say it,” Harry begged, but the tiny hint of happiness in his voice betrayed him. Louis knew he wanted it too.

“But I do, Harry, I love you,” Louis went on unrelentingly, taking Harry’s hand in his. “I love everything about you, scars and all. I love your eyes and your stupid hair and the way you do everything slowly and sleepily like you couldn’t care less. I love the way you kiss, the way our bodies fit perfectly together like they were meant to be. I loved you when we watched the fireworks together and I love you now, and I’m sick of holding it all in because I love you, and nothing you say is going to change that. So please, Harry, let me in.”

He heard his voice crack on the last word, but he didn’t care. This was it; he’d finally come to terms with how he felt. And it was about time Harry came to terms with it too.

He saw the way Harry’s eyes lit up with hope, and that alone spread a warmth through his heart that he’d never felt.

He took a step closer, past the invisible walls Harry had built which he knew were crumbling.

Harry didn’t move back.

Slowly, gently, he reached out a hand and cupped it around Harry’s jaw. 

Harry didn’t protest.

He took the final step, closing the gap in between them, and kissed Harry. 

The kiss was soft, gentler than any other they had shared, and yet filled with the utmost passion. Every stroke of the tongue, every gasped whisper against his lips, bore a meaning that hadn’t been there before. They stood there for what seemed like an eternity, tongues exchanging silent _I love yous_ , hands wrapped tightly around one another as if to say _I’m never letting you go, not now, not ever._

When Harry finally pulled back for a moment Louis bit his lip, fearing that Harry was going to leave, but the way his eyes shone brighter than the fireworks they’d seen together reassured him otherwise. Harry was finally his, he realized, and just thinking that made his heart swell up with elation.

“I love you,” Harry said breathlessly, and his lips quirked up in a surprised smile as if he couldn’t believe how good the words felt on his tongue. It was the most adorable sight Louis had ever seen.

“I love you too,” Louis said, nudging him gently in the side. “Come on, let’s go home, it’s getting cold outside.”

Harry nodded, still smiling, a devious glint having returned to his green eyes. 

Louis was glad to see that the old Harry was back. “What?”

“Does our promise still stand?”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “What promise?”

“A lifetime of sexual favours. Starting now, of course.”

“Oh my God, Harry, we’ve been doing this shit for months now.” But Louis was glad to see that the normal, cheeky Harry had returned.

“Just wanted to make sure,” Harry winked, dragging Louis by the hand. 

“Wait,” Louis said, struggling to keep up with Harry’s steps. “Like, now?”

“Yes, like now. I haven’t gotten laid in three days and I can’t wait any longer so you’re gonna make it up to me.”

Louis shrugged. “It’s not my fault you can’t keep it in your pants.”

“Aha,” said Harry, glancing pointedly downwards, “but neither can you.”

Louis blushed. Great, so it was just like the old times and Harry was back to mercilessly teasing Louis. Then again, he thought, he could get used to this. Before he could respond, a cab pulled up and they got in.

The minute Harry closed the door behind them his lips were on Louis’. Louis pried Harry away. “Oh my God, can’t you _wait_ ,” he hissed, and turned to tell the amused driver their address. Harry just pouted innocently until Louis finally couldn’t resist and pulled him in for another kiss.

It seemed like hours before they finally arrived. Every second spent was another pleasant tingle down Louis’ spine at the thought of finally having Harry to himself. They hurried out the door after paying the driver and Harry dragged Louis up the stairs so fast that Louis nearly tripped several times, and yet he couldn’t help but smile.

Harry’s hands fumbled awkwardly with the keys and it was almost adorable seeing him like this—he was always so calm and composed and knew what he was doing. Louis reminded himself that _he’d_ been the cause and that made him want to devour Harry right there. That was the only thing on his mind when the door unlocked and he pushed Harry up against the wall… and he almost didn’t notice the three pairs of eyes watching eagerly as he did so.

He pulled away hastily, looking at his shoes like they were the most interesting thing in the world. Out the corner of his eye he could see Harry awkwardly tugging at the bottom of his shirt.

The room was silent for quite a while. Niall looked vaguely amused, Liam looked like a proud father and Zayn’s face just screamed _I fucking called it._

Niall was the first to speak up. “Uh, welcome home?” 

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “We’re, uh, back.” Louis knew from the tone of his voice that he didn’t just mean _back home_ , but also _back together._ His heart leaped a tiny little bit and he looked up, smiling sheepishly at Zayn, Liam, and Niall.

“Yeah, we can see that,” Zayn said sarcastically. He paused, and then added in a more serious tone of voice, “We’re glad you’re back. Really glad, actually. Harry here has been so depressed without you it wasn’t even funny.”

Louis looked quizzically at Harry, who groaned. “He’s lying, I have been absolutely fantastic.”

“Sure,” Zayn said, not-so-subtly nudging Liam with his elbow. “Anyway, Liam and I were just headed out on a date, actually, so we should get going.”

Liam scrunched up his eyebrows. “We were? You never told me—”

“Surprise date!” Zayn exclaimed with false cheer as he dragged Liam out the door and shot Niall a meaningful glance. Niall just shrugged and nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m going to meet some mates or something, actually, what the hell, I have absolutely nothing planned and we’d better get us some soundproof walls if this is going to go on, I am the only single guy in this apartment and it fucking sucks. Anyway, don’t let me get you down, have fun lads!” He jogged out the door.

Liam looked rather concerned as he turned his head and called, “Be safe!”

“Alright, Mum,” Harry rolled his eyes and shut the door with a _slam._ They both instantly burst out laughing.

“Oh, God, that was the worst,” Louis groaned.

“It’s like a wedding day,” Harry replied. “Where everyone in the room knows you’re getting laid tonight.”

“Well, then, we may as well get on with it,” Louis said, raising his eyebrows. 

“Was that an invitation?”

“Maybe.”

Without a word, Harry picked him up off his feet and carried him to the bedroom.

“Hey, put me down, I can walk by myself—mmph—” Louis tried to complain, but was cut off when Harry dropped him on the bed and silenced him with a kiss. In an instant, all of their pent-up passion was released onto each other, in hurried kisses and frantic hands sliding across skin, so eager to take part in the action that had become routine that they’d both missed.

Somewhere along the line they’d both undressed—Louis didn’t know when, or how, but he’d somehow rolled them over so that he was on top of Harry. He looked down at him, all bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked and Louis couldn’t resist but pull him in by his hair and kiss him deeply, relishing the taste of his lips. Harry was just lying there, letting Louis take control of the kiss and looking up at Louis like he meant the world to him and Louis was so enraptured in his gaze that he almost didn’t notice something was different from the usual.

Well, for one, he was on top. They’d never done it this way before, and Louis had wanted to since the start, of course. But then he remembered Harry’s adamant refusal to bottom, and suddenly it all clicked. 

_“He—he convinced me to—”_ Harry had said. _“To have sex with him, and then two days later I caught him in bed with someone else.”_

It had been Mark all along, hadn’t it? Harry had lost his virginity to him and then he’d stomped all over Harry’s feelings and that was why Harry didn’t bottom anymore because of those memories. Thinking about the hurt he must’ve felt made Louis feel sick. 

He pulled back, trying his best to calm his heart at the way Harry whimpered when he moved away. It had taken a hell of a lot for Harry to trust Louis again, so he didn’t want to ruin anything by making Harry uncomfortable. “Is—you know, is this okay for you?” he asked, hoping Harry knew what he meant.

The look in Harry’s eyes told him that he knew. “Yeah,” Harry said, barely even hesitating. “I trust you.”

The words slipped so easily from Harry’s mouth, and Louis had to fight the urge to break into a grin. “Okay,” he said. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, Louis,” Harry rasped. “I want this. I want you.” 

And fuck if Louis was going to waste any more time. He rummaged through the drawer of the bedside table and quickly returned with lube, slathering some on his cock and his fingers. It occurred to him that he was somewhat _nervous_ , which was funny in itself considering how many times they’d done this, but then when he rubbed his fingers against Harry’s entrance and slipped one in and Harry let out an undignified moan, he promptly forgot about that. He cut Harry off with another kiss, murmuring words of encouragement as he added another finger. “Fuck, you’re so hot. Gonna fuck you like this.”

“Fucking do it already,” Harry hissed, and Louis did. 

He thrust inside slowly. Harry felt so tight and warm around him and it was so _good_ , Louis couldn’t tell which one of them let out the noise of approval that happened next. Maybe it was both, but he couldn’t really bring himself to think about anything other than the beautiful boy beneath him, hair splayed out against the pillow, legs locked tightly around Louis’ waist and moaning brokenly and _god, Harry, Harry,_ he moaned as he moved faster, sinking deeper into pleasure. He could feel himself getting closer. Harry’s nails dug deep into his waist and soon the boy was crying out as he came untouched over his stomach. Louis lost it too, then, gripping Harry’s shoulders tightly as he came inside of him.

Panting and breathless, he pulled out slowly and turned over so that he was lying next to Harry, their limbs still tangled together. They were sweaty and messy, but Louis didn’t fucking care, because he’d never felt happier in his life than in this moment, knowing that Harry was finally here to stay and that they had all the time in the world.

He brushed Harry’s hair back and kissed him gently. Neither of them spoke, because they didn’t need to. The look in Harry’s eyes said everything, that look of utter and complete happiness and _love_ in the other boy’s eyes, and Louis swore he’d never felt happier in his entire life.

Because if there was one thing in the world that Louis loved, it was Harry Styles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, fluffy adorable babies. I'm a sucker for a happy ending. I figured I owed you guys some smut anyways, for patiently waiting so long. Hope you liked it! I probably won't be on this account very often anymore, but my tumblr is stylinsunshine and you can always drop me an ask anytime xx


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